Innocence and Heart
by BananaPropaganda
Summary: Ronin and his Wistful Eyes are back, this time with a completely new challenge: Learning to live with eachother! And on top of that, thier destination is Vampire Mountain.
1. Chapter 1: Ronin's Musings

Disclaimer: This applies for this entire story, so no suing me in later chapters. Now: Obviously, I don't own the Darren Shan Saga/Cirque Du Freak. Duh.

--

"Once upon a time, there was a tiny little half-vampire brat who never let her wonderfully merciful and caring mentor get any sleep… He slept less and less every day, thanks to the constant whining and endless energy of the brat. This lack of slumber whittled away at his soft kindness, taking more of it away during each night that passed. The brat was naïve and stubborn, however, and chose to ignore this fact…until her mentor snapped and chucked her in a river. The end."

"…I don't like that story."

Ronin Takoda leaned back a bit on his makeshift bed, yawning. "No? I thought it deserved some award."

"I don't think so."

"It even had a moral."

"What's that?"

"Little girls should let their mentors sleep."

"Stupid moral."

Giving up for the moment, he rolled his eyes. Oh dear, she seemed like a puppy now more than ever. At this point, she was at that dreaded "tearing apart the furniture" stage…addled with separation anxiety and energy that she didn't know what to do with. What joy.

Fortunately, some of that energy could be focused into her swordsmanship training. Some of it.

However, most of this surplus energy came out during the day. Ronin would try very hard to ignore her, and would fail, miserably. Then he would scream at her, and she would just smile cheerfully back, apparently enjoying herself very much. Occasionally, she would ask for a story, leading him to believe that if she got one, she would instantly pass out on Mister Konosuke, her plushie puppy, which she tended to use as a pillow. But _no_, she would get her story, and then she would continue bouncing around like a firecracker.

Because of this very fact, Ronin had stopped in more towns and cities than he would have preferred, giving Toklata the chance to go out and frolic with other children her age. But she still stuck to him like glue, actually clinging to his leg while they passed a group of children playing basketball on one account, further driving him to madness.

--

He would never admit it out loud, but her company _was_ a bit refreshing. She was sweet, dedicated, loyal, and just damn cute, when she wasn't bouncing off the walls. In fact, the few times he caught her asleep, he felt like he could just watch for hours, as her chest moved slowly up and down, and how she blew a few of her bangs upward when she breathed out.

What a shame it would be to see her white hands stained crimson someday.

Ronin had repeatedly pounded one fact into her head—_Swords are used to kill, and for nothing else_. She would nod, and repeat it when asked, but he was never quite sure that she really understood. She still practiced with a wooden sword, and when they sparred, he would use the dull side of his katana, so how could she possibly grasp it…?

In all truth, he couldn't see it either. This little girl, who picked flowers for him during the daytime hours, a killer?

"Master, tell me a _better_ story!" she yelped, pulling him out of his deep thoughts.

He cuffed her hard across the back of her head. "Go to bed!"

--

Toklata was humming some ancient country song, probably from before she was born, while doing her daily (nightly) sword strokes, bringing her wooden sword high above her head, and then bringing it down in a fierce arc, when her mentor suddenly declared something about a mountain.

"What?" she asked, head tilted.

"Vampire Mountain, my dear Wistful Eyes," Ronin explained unhappily from his spot under a huge oak tree. "Center of the government, et cetera, et cetera. I'm sure I've mentioned it…"

"Well…yes, but…you said you hated it there."

"I do!" he snapped immediately, childishly crossing his arms over his chest. "And I can guarantee that_ you_ won't be adored by everyone there, either. Really, it'll just be a burden… But Sakura is there, and we should go see her. You remember Sakura, right?"

"Yeah!" she chirruped happily. "She's the one who made the doll of me…the dead one… Does that mean she doesn't like me?"

"Of course not! In fact, she adores you. This is why we can't visit her too often! She spoils you rotten!"  
Toklata didn't really think that getting a new set of raggedy clothes could really be considered being spoiled, but kept this to herself, instead asking, "So…we're going to Vampire Mountain… Is it fun there?"

Ronin turned serious eyes on her, frowning. "When we get there, you will stay by either my or Sakura's side at all times."

He made sure to make it an order, not a request. Despite her tender age, no passing vampire would just lovingly pat her on the head, when the chance to send her away crying was so clear. He was no softy either, and her training was absolutely intense, but a few good practices didn't make a champion.

Not to mention Toklata's trusting attitude. The only vampires she had ever met were himself and Sakura, and Konosuke, if he were to be counted, all of which were very much loved by her. So, if she were to run into some cruel general, the result would not be pretty.

"Oh, sure, sure!" She grinned sloppily.

"Err…yes. My side _or_ Sakura's, remember."

"I'd rather stay with you."

"_Great._ The trip won't be fun, so you should get a full day's rest once the sun comes up," he pointed out hopefully.

"I think I'll be too excited to sleep!"

"Lovely. Do two hundred more sword strokes before then. Then we'll see how you feel about the matter."

"Maaaster!"

--

And thus, the pair set off the next night, one horridly sleepy and irritable, the other with sore arms, begging for a piggyback ride.

--

A/N—Erm…I don't know how long you're supposed to wait before writing a sequel, but I'm doing mine now... I started school last week, and my study halls seem to be never-ending, so I seriously need something to concentrate on in there. Plus, I got my hands on the last (T.T) saga novel yesterday, and I'm sure it would only inspire me once I finished it, so why not get a head start? This chapter is sort of a prologue, without really being called a prologue…err…yes. It's not too long, and really serves as an intro. It could be better…but I have school and practice tomorrow, and thus, wanted to get it done. Forgive my extreme laziness, but I have to go read Sons of Destiny now.


	2. Chapter 2:Toklata's Musings

After two hours straight of Toklata playing less-than-perfect flute while perched on his shoulders, Ronin had had enough, and dumped her off without any warning, continuing on his way while she sat on the ground in stupor.

No more than half an hour later, she attached herself firmly to his left leg and rode there for nearly a mile, biting and nipping at his skin with brutal thoughts of revenge for tossing her onto the forest floor.

Both came to the conclusion that their trip would not be an enjoyable one.

--

"Why can't I wear shoes?" Toklata whined. Ronin had swiped her beaten sandals away from her the very second her bottom had hit the ground, during their very first rest stop of the trip. They had stopped in a clearing of a thick forest, taking refuge from the slight drizzle that had broken out under an old, titanic oak tree.

She reached for her shoes angrily, but Ronin held them high over her head, barely even lifting his arm to do so. "Calm down," he yawned, tossing them into the bag slung over his back. "It's a ridiculous rule of 'Survival-of-the-Fittest' or some nonsense along those lines. Honestly, if you want to separate the strong from the weak, swords should be involved…" He put a hand across the top of his katana's handle, and adopted a sour look. "But keep in mind, girl, the fact that someone is strong doesn't make them right. Or smart, for that matter."

"Yes, yes, a swordsman is a strategist, not a fighter," she said dully, repeating what Ronin had relayed to her what seemed like enough times to make her brain bleed. "I know this already! You can be very annoying sometimes!"

Ronin smirked at her complaints, apparently enjoying the situation, and so she adopted her customary cheery smile. He frowned. "Don't do that, it's very creepy. Well…don't do it to _me_, but try it out on some other vampires."

"Okay. Hey, how long is this trip gonna be?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"What country am I in?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh."

Toklata sighed and left it at that. She had been well aware of where she was during their ascendance of the United States, right up the east coast, but had immediately stopped attempting to keep track when they boarded a ship in New York's harbor that was headed for Europe. Not to mention, Ronin hated big cities with a passion, and so she couldn't even glance around for famous landmarks to hint where she was. Even people were becoming a rare thing to see.

She blinked, realizing how long it had been since they had last chanced upon a hidden small-town. Not even a tree fort was to be found perched on one of the looming branches of any of the trees! Then, she glanced up at Ronin, wondering if he himself even knew where they were.

He seemingly read her mind, and snapped. "Stop doubting me. I've been around the world at least twice." She rolled her eyes, but Ronin chose to ignore it, and continued. "Now listen. This trip is going to be difficult. It's supposed to be a test. For full vampires. Hence, the lack of shoes. However, you're a half vampire, and one of a very tender age. You're practically an infant. So it must be appropriate to bend some rules for you…" He was speaking more to himself now, brows furrowed. "We'll have to figure that out."

"We should spar," Toklata declared suddenly, standing up and brushing off her pants.

Her mentor rolled his eyes. "Why? Why do you look forward to such a thing, when you always whine and complain after I beat you down?"

"You cheat!"

"Idiot! You're supposed to take advantage of an enemy's weakness in battle! It's not cheating, it's common sense!"

She poked her index fingers together shyly and pouted. "Yes…but…but I don't have any advantages over _you_, so it's not fair."

"No advantage? Oh, you have a few advantages over me; you just haven't found them yet."

"Tell me!"

Ronin pretended the think about it, before taking a breath and sighing, "No."

"What's for dinner?"

He rolled his eyes. "Let's keep on one subject for at least five minutes, okay?"

"So you'll spar with me!" she chirruped happily. "I knew you would!"

Blinking, Ronin snapped, "What? No!"

"Why!"

"Because _you_ have to go catch some dinner."

She sighed, but noted the sharpness in her mentor's tone and immediately headed off in search of a stream, with hopes of catching some fish.

_Master says it'll be a hard trip, _she mused, while weaving throughout the forest._ But I do want to see Sakura again. And it's not like it really matters if _I_ want to go anyway…_

Toklata looked down at her small hands, covered in sword calluses, and retraced the past year in her head, from her blooding to where she was now. Not a week had passed after they left Leigh's home, when Ronin had whipped her current wooden sword out of nowhere, thrust it into her hands, and ordered that she do one hundred strokes on the spot. She had stared blankly up at him for a good full minute, before he got the hint and explained the whole thing.

It was almost as if he were re-teaching himself as well, it seemed to her. To explain every stance and stroke to her, he had to pull it apart himself and demonstrate in baby steps something that he would normally do naturally, without thought. Unfortunately, he was terribly impatient when it came to such things, and so if she couldn't grasp things right away, he'd scream and scowl and sigh about what a burden she was until she _did_ pick it up.

One thing Toklata had learned very early on: an angry mentor was not something she wanted to be within a mile of. The incident that spurred this belief occurred one bright, cloudless day while he was sleeping, and she was fully energized and completely bored. She had gone rooting through his black bag, finding nothing of much interest except for a long strip of beautiful silver silk, something she could only guess to be a woman's shawl, which she swiftly stole and wrapped around herself and began make-believing with, trailing it through mud puddles and up trees.

When dusk came around, and Ronin found her, a look of absolute surprise was plastered over his handsome features, which swiftly turned into complete rage, once the situation fully registered. He snatched the silver fabric from her and towered over her, screaming at the top of his voice, hands curled into shaking fists.

It scared the hell out of the poor girl, who was firmly convinced that her master was going to beat her to death for dirtying the fabric. But, after he was done with the yelling, he just whipped out his sword and beat on a few very unlucky trees, falling completely silent. He then took the shawl, headed for a nearby stream, and returned hours later with it scrubbed spotless, looking ready to start sobbing.

The whole ordeal left Toklata very traumatized who, after a few days of complete silence from her teacher, broke down and apologized repeatedly. She was again scolded harshly, but then forgiven, and the nights began to progress as usual.

After that, she always tried to act as the perfect student. Hell, she was pretty much _forced_ to be the perfect student, with Ronin as a mentor. And not just in things such as her fighting skills. He was also slowly teaching her the customs and laws of vampires. She questioned them, rather nervously, in fear of more yelling, but Ronin always seemed delighted with her skepticism.

She thought about that. _It's not really that surprising, I guess. Whenever he sits out and explains a vampire law to me, he usually ends up taking just as long to tell me how stupid it is right afterwards._

Her mentor could be considered a bit of a rebel, in the sense that he stressed the code of a samurai far more thoroughly than any vampire law, and seemed to always have something sarcastic to say about "other vampires," which seemed to consist of just about everyone except for him, herself, and Sakura (a woman who he praised as if she were a goddess, took orders from, and still managed to joke with lightly). She wondered blankly if he was going to be so indignant to everyone in Vampire Mountain when they got there. Half of her hoped he would, because he always sounded so smart when he was challenging something, but the other half severely hoped he would keep his mouth shut and his tail between his legs, in fear of him causing anyone willing to be her friend to develop an instant hatred for her, all because of her mentor's horrid manners.

She reached the stream just as she ran out of topics to mull over, and blankly stared into it, checking for fish. A few lazily passed into her field of vision, swimming calmly back and forth or in circles in the fresh, clear water. She laid herself at the edge of the water and watched carefully, waiting.

Just as she was about to reach down and grab one, however, a strong hand clamped itself firmly over her mouth and thrust her backwards. For a brief moment, she thought for sure that her assailant was Ronin, as she could never sense him coming, but dismissed it quickly; he wouldn't be throwing her around in the first place. She opened her eyes and looked.

Three gruff human men had her circled; grinning in a lopsided way that suggested a lot of alcohol was involved in some way or another. She cursed herself for being too preoccupied to sense them coming, and also for not carrying her sword with her, but immediately started working out an alternate plan.

"Look at that!" the one who had pushed her growled. "She's not even scared! The little freak!"

"Not just that, she's smiling."

The one who hadn't spoken kicked her instead.

"Got any money, valuables, et cetera, girlie? Wanna play?"

Toklata stood up and calmly brushed off her hindquarters. "Will you please, please, _please_ leave me alone?" she asked cheerfully, putting on a goofy grin and batting her eyes. "If I don't catch some dinner soon, master is going to be very upset with me…" None of them made any movements. "Yeah. I didn't think so."

She quickly ducked between one's legs, surprising them all with her speed, and kicked his legs out from under him, turning back to them with a triumphant, if not childish grin.

Unfortunately, this only pissed the trio off, very severely. The one on the ground quickly recovered while she was gloating, and backed her against a tree, fists raised.

"Little bitch!" the quiet one suddenly swore. He picked up a rock and a nearby tree branch, and chucked the former at her head. "You should have just been scared like a normal little brat."

She batted the stone away, but was swiftly struck across the face with the tree branch directly after. She screamed, but more from surprise than pain, and let her guard down, long enough for one of the men to yank at her shirt and lift her up.

A wooden sword came flying towards her. She caught it, just barely, stared at it, and finally experienced the good sense to look up.

"Show me," Ronin said simply from his leaning position on a small tree, and his assistant happily obliged.

"Wh-what the hell!" Her assailant dropped her, from shock of Ronin appearing out of nowhere. She snaked behind him and whapped him across the back of his head, and repeated the process with the other two. All three were faintly unconscious within thirty seconds.

With them taken care of, Toklata turned to beam proudly at her mentor, only to find him directly in front of her. He grabbed her roughly and hugged her tightly to his chest.

"You scared the hell out of me!" he yelled, but she knew that he wasn't angry with her by the hint of terror in his voice, never mind how tightly he was gripping her. "I thought they were vampaneze or something! Don't scare me like that! You should bring your sword with you wherever you go!"

"I-I'm fine!" she yelped.

Noting that she couldn't breathe, he released her. She apologized several times and went to fetch her sword, which had been discarded sloppily when Ronin had glomped onto her. Out of the corners of her eyes, she noticed the men wake up, look around drunkenly, spot her, and then begin to run away hurriedly, but she let them be, since their interest in her had all but disappeared.

She picked up her wooden sword, feeling guilty. While reminiscing, she had only gone over bad things. But her mentor could be (even if it was extremely rare) very kind at times.

Toklata turned to give Ronin a bright, genuine smile, and was immediately sprayed with blood.

--

A/N- BumBumBum… not really. The blood is all for character development, I swear.

Anyway, it took me a while, but I finally got chapter two done! Yay! And I want to get chapter three up quicker than usual, so I've been working on it in my study halls.

I forgot to mention—this story takes place right around books 4, 5, and 6 in the saga (somewhere in there…eh).

Clearing up any weird ideas about Ronin's "shawl," a.k.a. Toklata's plaything to drag through the mud: it ties in with another fic I'm working on in my spare time, which is the backstory on Ronin's scar. (Unlike Mr. Crepsley's, it has a great tale to go with it!) A tragic romance story –swoon-…or it would be, if Jaden didn't refer to Ronin's love as "That Choshu-supporting Whore." I want to inspire some tears with it. –Nods-

Erm…I think that's it! Please review! My friends are being jerks and I need something positive! .


	3. Chapter 3: Who is This Girl?

"All right, what's wrong? You've been silent this whole time, and with that sour look on your face."

Toklata remained unspeaking, but her brows furrowed even deeper and her bottom lip began to quiver.

Ronin halted completely and kneeled in front of her. "Tell me what is bothering you," he said softly, searching her eyes.

To both of their surprise, she smacked him, a gesture she had copied from Leigh. "Why did you kill them!" she demanded, tears beginning to drip from her turquoise eyes. She tried to hit him again, but he caught her small fist. She looked away angrily, but he used his free hand to cup her chin and tip it upwards so that she was staring into his golden eyes.

"You are upset because I killed those men."

It wasn't a question, but she nodded feebly and pressed her forehead to his chest. "Why?" she sobbed. "They were just gonna run away! You should've let them go! They weren't gonna hurt me anymore!"

"But they tried to hurt you," he replied softly.

"So they died because of me!"

"No," he corrected. "Think of all the other people that they would have hurt or killed if I let them roam free. That is why they died."

"So you kill to prevent death?" She laughed dryly. "That makes no sense."

He lifted her up and placed her on his shoulders, beginning to walk again. "Swordsmanship in general doesn't make any sense, if you haven't noticed yet."

She poked her head into his field of vision, wiping her eyes quickly, her tears replaced with a questioning look.

"Oh no, Wistful Eyes. This isn't a conversation I can just—"

"Tell me…master."

He sighed deeply once he got a good look at his assistant's face. She had a very determined look set in her wet turquoise eyes, one that suggested that if he didn't get this out with her now, he would regret it in the future.

"A swordsman—or any fighter, for that matter—carries a huge weight upon their heart. Most wield their sword for their ideals, or to protect others, but don't really realize the process they go through. Killing is wrong, no matter what the reasons. Some, however, do recognize this, and are burdened ever further, because they realize that they will have to make decisions in regards to their killings along the way. They have to choose weather it is worth taking an individual's soul to save others…or if it isn't."

"It wasn't!" she insisted, voice wavering again. "No one should kill anyone! Ever!"

"I'm sorry, Toklata, but this is the reality. Do you understand that swordsmanship is the killing art now?"

She buried her head into his hair, crying again, but he felt her nodding.

"Good."

The rest of their trip back to their hideaway was silent (the whole rest of the night, actually), and neither had dinner (not that there was anything to eat anyway, since Toklata's fishing trip had been cut short).

The sun rose several hours later, and, after walking for a bit, they settled down under an old weeping willow. But, rather than going and creating her own bed (meaning: throwing dirty clothes and her stuffed puppy onto the ground to plop onto), she wordlessly came to Ronin's spot under the tree, and lay down next to him, using his chest as a pillow. He didn't offer any protest, and she didn't offer an explanation.

They slept soundly for two hours, before Toklata started screaming and thrashing around from under Ronin's cloak, which was acting as their makeshift blanket.

His eyes snapped open at her terrified scream, his body immediately ready to jump up and fight, but upon seeing that it was nothing more than a nightmare, he gently shook her awake.

"Wistful Eyes…stop." He waited a few moments. Her scream faded, but she continued with a pitiful whimpering, so he shook her a bit harder. "Toklata!"

She bolted upwards and looked around hurriedly, blinking rapidly, and finally stopping dead when she realized exactly where she was. "I…I'm…" she mumbled, and then shook her head lightly. "A dream," she gasped, staring up into Ronin's bright eyes.

"Are you okay now?" he asked in a gently concerned tone.

She leaned her head against his chest, mumbling, "Why did I kill them? Because that's what swordsmanship is? I killed them. Because that's what you taught me, master."

He gaped at the top of her head for a few moments, before regaining his composure. He should've already been able to figure out the subject of her nightmare. "Hush," he cooed, awkwardly stroking her hair. "Everything is okay, Tokie. It was a dream."

"A dream," she agreed shakily.

After a few hours of shaking and glancing around, horrified, she fell back into a light, troubled sleep.

--

The next night, they continued on, and Toklata bounced right back to being her normal self, not even mentioning the incident in a passing sort of tone. Her voice managed to avoid talking about it completely, and everything slid back its rightful place. Her goofy smile, her exhaustive training…it all happened just as before. The only change was in the weather, which suddenly became very cold very quickly, and remained that way.

Being from southern Alabama, Toklata wasn't used to such temperatures, half-vampire or not. She didn't whine about it, but she would drone, "It's cold," in an idiotic tone of voice at least six times over the course of a single night, a very annoying amount, and so Ronin did his best to keep her as warm as possible.

Her favorite tactic by far was to steal his cloak, lay it out across the hard ground, lay on the edge of it, and then roll over it until she was cocooned in the black fabric. She looked ridiculous, and everything but her head would be wrapped up, thus making her limbs useless. Ronin had to sling the bundle of his assistant over his shoulder and carry her everywhere.

They hit snow two weeks after starting this strange ritual. It came during the day, while Ronin was peacefully asleep, and Toklata was playing super-swordsman, attacking a small, helpless oak tree with her wooden sword (though she would have said that it was a very evil tree). The sky grayed over the course of an hour, and white flakes began to fall drunkenly into the clearing where she was mauling aforementioned tree.

She was about to charge the bullied oak once more, but a delicate flake got to the tip of her nose first.

She crossed her eyes to stare at it. It melted. She blinked, very upset that the cute little white puff had chosen to die on her nose, but then looked up and noted that the cute little white puff was not, in fact, the last of a dying species, but one in a million, no, a _kazillion_, others.

She nearly died of joy, but instead chose to dash into her master's sleeping place, a small, uninhabited cave that they had chanced upon, and jumped onto his curled-up form.

"Damnit!" he gasped, sitting up. Upon seeing Toklata grinning over him, he cuffed her across the head. "Ow! You kneed me in the ribs, you idiot!"

She remained unruffled by his swift smack, and stood up. "Look, look, _look_, master! Look outside!"

Noting that she was bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, and obviously didn't have any intention of letting him sleep until he followed her out into the horrid, sunny cold, Ronin stood up and skeptically waited. She grabbed his left hand anxiously and pulled him to the mouth of the cave. "Look, look, look!"

"Snow?" he inquired, stifling a yawn.

"Aren't they cute?"

"'_They_' mean that you'll have to start wearing a turtleneck and bottoms that cover your thighs," he scowled distastefully, dismissively motioning to her cloth shorts.

"Is this really snow?" she asked suspiciously.

"Of course, stupid. Why wouldn't it be? Even if you've never seen it, I'm sure you've heard of it."

"But…"

"Go on."

She stepped out into it. A slight wind had come, and was swirling it about, glittering in what little sunlight filtered through the clouds. "But…I've only ever heard people say how stupid and nasty snow is," she mumbled, sticking her hand out into the whirling mess. "So I thought that it was like this hideous off-white blob that plopped itself down where it was least wanted. But…it's really very pretty."

Ronin smiled contentedly, amazed as usual by her simple sort of happiness. "It is," he agreed. "Now grab your sword and get some rest. If you get enough sleep, we can stay and play in it for the night."

"Really!" she yipped, overjoyed. "I love you, master!"

He smiled his arrogant, charming smile. "Of course you do."

--

As promised, she slept soundly, not even wiggling around in mid-dream.

As promised, she frolicked in the snow all night.

As they should have expected, she got sick from doing so in shorts and a t-shirt.

--

"Here."

"…I'll look stupid."

"You don't. And anyway, they'll keep you warm."

Toklata grudgingly pulled on the thick navy-blue socks, which went up to her knees. "Why do you even have these?"

"When you picked out clothes so long ago, I noted your choice of summer clothing, and took the liberty of getting a few more appropriate articles."

"Sport socks?"

"And sweatpants."

"Urgh," she moaned, pretending to throw up. "But nothing to keep my arms warm?"

"You're lucky I got you anything. You're doing two-hundred sword strokes once you're all dressed, by the way."

"Isn't two-hundred a punishment? What did I do?"

He shook his head curtly. "From now on, two-hundred strokes are routine. Five-hundred is the punishment, so be good."

"Mm." She pulled up the socks, patted them, grabbed her wooden sword, and hopped out of their pine tree's path, into the bitter wind. It wasn't snowing anymore, but a light sheet of the stuff covered the ground, and the wind was whipping wildly.

Ronin, rather than sleeping, poked his head out from between the huge pine tree's sheltering branches and spied on her, mostly in awe. He adored her light attitude, and Sakura treated her as if she were a poor orphan child who needed to be hugged to death, but wasn't naïve enough to think that everyone else would. He would have avoided the Mountain completely if Sakura hadn't insisted that he introduce her, and the incident from a few weeks before made him even warier.

Toklata, his dear assistant, was a completely unstable element.

--

A/N—O.o Finally, right! I have been sooo busy! I can't remember if I was writing Pride Under the Crescent Moon during field hockey season last year, or if I started it after, but it's really interfering this year. Well…I'm on JV, and in field hockey JV always plays after the Varsity, when last year it was just my one team…so yeah. Sitting around for the Varsity game wastes a full hour. Plus, I'm in marching band this year. I didn't realize how much we marched! I thought it was only a few parades over the course of the year, but I've had to do football games, and the homecoming parade. Yech. So I do have a good excuse, sort of. Forgive me for taking so long. This was actually a chapter I wanted to get up earlier than usual. Go figure.


	4. Chapter 4: Sakura

Quick Notes:

Geisha: Literally meaning "artist;" women of ancient Japan who perfected beauty in every way. Even walking in their conservative kimonos took skill.

Shamisen: I personally think it has a very annoying sound, but it is the typical musical instrument that geisha learn to play. It has no frets and only three stings, and it used mostly to accompany a narrative style of singing.

Kimono: Typical outfit for women in ancient Japan. Very conservative, and hard to move around in.

--

"I always wanted to be in marching band. But we can't, not until fifth grade, so I never got to. I tried playing trumpet once. It didn't work. Trumpets are dumb."

"Well you're certainly not going to find a trumpet on Vampire Mountain, so that's good," Ronin sniffed. "You won't find any other instruments you hate either…or any instruments you like."

They were tromping through rough, snowy mountains at the time, Toklata riding as lookout on Ronin's shoulders as usual, but trying very hard to use his head as a wind-breaker to the best of her ability. Her amazement for the glittery white snow had mostly disappeared, and she didn't dare take her delicate, shining flute out of its protective case in the whipping weather. And so, she would pick out a random topic to discuss for every night to entertain herself, and she would draw that topic out to its very ends, until there was nothing left to argue. It helped pass the time an amazing amount, but some of her chosen subjects were…odd. And they always started out sounding like her life story.

"They should have a marching band," she continued seriously. Ronin groaned. "No! Listen to me, master! There's lots of us, right! You can't tell me that _none_ of them play!"

Ronin tried his hardest to picture the princes in gaudy marching band uniforms. "Urgh. No. No, there is no marching band among vampires."

"Not a bad idea, however, Tokie. Sadly, unless I'm mistaken, the shamisen isn't the kind of musical instrument that would be played in an American…marching band, did you call it?"

Ronin turned, dumbfounded, and stared at the woman who had suddenly appeared behind him. Both he and Toklata looked completely clueless for a few long moments, but, soon enough, realization hit them hard.

"Sakura!" they both gasped

"Y-you look…different," he explained carefully.

"You look bad," Toklata said bluntly. This got her a whack from Ronin.

"The trip to Vampire Mountain isn't one that you would want to make in an expensive kimono, Tokie," Sakura laughed good-naturedly, in her light voice. "But I didn't realize that you two wouldn't even recognize me without my usual attire."

Sakura Hiroshi was a picture of beauty and softness, nearly flawless between her looks and polite, softspoken attitude. For the majority of her long lifetime, she had been a geisha, and all of the ideas were still pounded into her brain: effortless grace with soft curves. She almost always wore a bright red kimono, with nothing less than soft pink sakura blossoms scattered across its fabric, and her dark chocolate-colored hair ornately done up with expensive-looking combs and ribbons, and always seemed quite a home in the constricting outfit.

But at that particular moment, she was dressed in cozy navy-blue warm-up pants with little basketballs all over them, and a baggy gray hooded sweatshirt with a huge volleyball across her stomach; shoeless, of course. Furthermore, her dark brunette hair was flying freely in the vicious mountain wind, though her lovely, long bangs, which covered most of her eyes, seemed to be doing a good job of staying in place.

Also adding to her unladylike look was the assortment of long spears that were sticking precariously out of her backpack and into the cold air. Yes, she had been a geisha, but she had also been Jaden's best friend. Which was something that required weapons.

"Your outfit doesn't match," Toklata noted impolitely.

"Toklata!" Ronin hissed, whacking her again. "Show some respect!"

"Yes it does," Sakura argued laughingly, ignoring Ronin and waving a hand over her attire. "Blue and gray go together."

"But those little balls on your pants are basketballs, and the thing on your top is a volleyball. They're two completely different things."

Her face fell. "Aw. I thought I was being modern, wearing these odd little circles everywhere." She paused, but then brightened. "Ah, well. I'll be back in my kimono as soon as we step foot into the Mountain."

"Good," Ronin sighed. "It suits you far better."

She smiled graciously and started to bow, but then remembered who exactly she was dealing with and pushed past them, further into the snow. Ronin watched her for a few quick moments and shook his head. He had always revered Sakura as an older-sister figure. Jaden had always demanded he give her his utmost respect, even more so than herself, and so he always had. In return, she was one of the smartest, most beautiful, and most trustworthy people he knew, and easily the kindest.

So, despite the trashy outfit, Sakura was still Sakura. Despite the sports balls plastered all over her, her voice still held its original Japanese accent. (Besides Japanese, her native language, she also spoke perfect English, French, and German.)

Between his pondering, Toklata slipped off his shoulders, her bottom hitting the snowy ground more than six feet down, and raced after the ex-geisha. Her joy for the flying white fluff was reborn as she explained to her, jumping up and down, of her first experience with the snow.

--

Upon her first meeting with the girl, Sakura had promptly decided that her "older-sister" love would not stop with her best friend's assistant. She came to the conclusion that Toklata was far more adorable than any small white bunny could ever be, and decided that she would also love _her_ to death. Ronin protested hotly this idea hotly, as a swordsman should never be spoiled during their training. Sakura would nod and agree with him, but then show up with presents in her arms anyway the next time they met. He eventually gave up.

This particular time, as Toklata's master lagged moodily behind them, she presented her with her own small light blue kimono, folded neatly. He scowled from his place behind the two of them, wondering irritably how much Sakura had spent on it, and when in the world Toklata would get a chance to wear the stupid thing.

What was worse than her constant gift-giving was the fact that they were always expensive, girly things that Toklata would never need as a swordsman. A nice pair of straw sandals or even a sword would be nice, but it was always jewelry and hairpins and delicate, breakable things that any decent swordsman would be embarrassed to be seen in.

Swords_woman_.

Sakura liked to gently remind him of _that_ quite a bit. "Toklata is a young lady, and her studies in kenjutsu don't change that fact," she would say in her quiet voice. "She's going to have those moments when she wants to look nice for something…or some_one_."

It was hard to picture that; that clingy little girl taking off and flirting with some man. Her fingers were already rougher than most girls because of the sword calluses, and her hair never behaved. She lacked any shape—this was to be expected from someone as young as her, of course, but Ronin had a suspicion that her lack of curves would stick with her long into her teen years. Regardless, Sakura's spirit was never dampened.

They stopped again after a few hours. The sun wasn't rising just yet, but Sakura insisted that they stop and have a decent meal, because, according to her, they were both looking a bit lanky, and, though her point was arguable, they did. They quickly backtracked to an earlier-spotted cave and set up camp, building a small fire in the center.

"Just the heat is good for now, but someone's going to have to go catch some dinner," Ronin pointed out as the three settled down by its licking flames.

"Be a gentleman and go do that, Ro, won't you?"

"What?"

Toklata giggled.

"Wistful Eyes, you go get something!"  
"But…"

"Ro…"

"All right, all right!" He stood up angrily and marched, always the victim of Sakura's pleadings, the sound of his assistant's subdued laughter at his back as he headed back out into the snow.

She turned to the girl, dark brown eyes glittering. "Would you like to try on your kimono now, Tokie?"

"I wanna spar!" she exclaimed loudly, jumping up and grabbing her own wooden sword and Ronin's old katana. She offered it to Sakura.

"Sorry, Tokie," she laughed. "My skill with one of those is lacking."

"Please, please, _please_, Sakura! I'll love you _forever_!"

She sighed. "You are Ro's assistant, aren't you? But really, Tokie, I can't fight with a regular sword. I'm horrib—"

"_Please!_ I want to show you how good I am!"

She gave up, knowing very well that Toklata had probably inherited some stubbornness from Ronin along his sword skills, and picked up Jaden's beaten old sword. "All right. Come outside."

Toklata grinned quickly, but then grew serious and ran out of the cave.

They stood facing each other in a fairly clear area, snow flying. Sakura pulled the sword out of its sheath and clumsily discarded it, awkwardly gripping the handle. Seeing that she was ready, Toklata took offense first, running towards Sakura and swinging sideways once she was in reach. The older woman blocked, but switched to offense sloppily, earlier than she should have, and began swinging wildly at Toklata, who, bewildered, dodged neatly. However, Sakura missed by a large range with each swing, so much so that the half-vampire barely even needed to dodge. She swung again, savagely downwards, and the sword implanted itself firmly in the ground.

She pulled angrily, muttering dark, unladylike things, and Toklata tapped her lightly on the forehead with her wooden sword.

"Head," she said. "I win… But you shouldn't have let me!"

"I didn't let you!" Sakura snapped, her voice rising as she tugged on the well-stuck sword. It popped out and sent her flying backwards.

"You did! There's no way I could have beat you fairly!"

She scowled, stood up, and brushed off her snowy back. "Do you _want_ to lose to me?"

"Well…I want to spar fairly. So you can't just let me win! Don't kill me either, though…"

"I. Didn't. Let. You. Win. I told you, I can't do a thing with a katana. Now. Do you really want a fair fight?"

She nodded nervously. Sakura smiled sweetly, sheathed the sword, and went back inside the cave. She returned with one of her spears; a practice one with a blunt end. Toklata watched suspiciously as she calmly took her place in front of her and breathed out a slow sigh.

"Begin!"

She charged. There was a cry of "Head!" and then everything was black.

--

"Oooowwww!"

Toklata woke up to a splitting pain right between her eyes, and the smell of fish. She wrenched open her eyes to find that she was laying uncomfortably on the cold cave floor, and that Ronin and Sakura were happily munching away at nothing other than…fish. Hence the smell.

Her mentor smirked at her. "Stupid idea," he said simply.

"Sorry," Sakura apologized. A small smile was threatening to cross her lips. "It would have been fairer if I had warned you. Or not used my full strength…"

Ronin burst out laughing. Sakura tried to hold a scolding expression on her features, but failed within seconds and followed suit.

"It's not funny!" Toklata insisted, stomping her left foot childishly.

"But there's a big red mark on your forehead."

"Stop laughing!"

They showed no signs of obeying her, so she gave up and sat down between them, stealing their dinner while they were in hysterics.

"Did I ever tell you that spear users have a huge advantage over swordsmen?" Ronin asked between laughter, wiping his eyes.

"No," she answered coldly, as she finished off both vampire's fish.

--

A/N—Well…Sakura wasn't supposed to come in until later, but I was getting bored of writing only two characters, and didn't know what else to do. So this whole chapter was pretty much an introduction to her character. Meh. I'm just happy that it didn't take me three weeks to write like the last chapter.

--Yes. Marching band uniforms really _are_ that bad.--


	5. Chapter 5: Illness

Perhaps a month had slowly trickled by since the original pair's first meeting with Sakura; not that any of the three were really keeping track any longer.

In fact, the dreary cold and wind had caused them all to sort of give up on daily (nightly) rituals, as they seemed to only be a hassle. Ronin had even deserted Toklata's training for the time being, though that was not only caused by laziness, but the girl's lack of interest. Her mind seemed to always be wandering as they drew closer to the mountain, and her continuous questions were enough to drive a seasoned warrior insane. She would regret this lack of training later, as she would have to make it all up some time, but for that moment, she was free to frolic.

She was exited for their destination, but the trip itself had taken quite a toll on her small body, even with all of the little loopholes in laws that Ronin and Sakura had found to make the trip easier. Her feet more than anything had gotten very beaten-up, something she certainly was _not _ecstatic about. The skin on their bottoms was torn and painful, but most of her worry came from how purely "ugly" they were, something completely uncharacteristic of her. Ronin claimed teasingly that her outer extremities were just fine being hideous, because they now matched her blistered and callused hands and fingers. But, of course, this observation didn't do a thing to cheer her up. Sakura, tired of her whining, did her very best to heal and protect the poor child's soles, but couldn't really do that much about it.

The woman herself, however, didn't have a single cut or bruise on her own feet. This had always baffled Ronin; every time they traveled to the Mountain, _every time_, this happened. He had grown used to it, but Toklata had not and nearly died of shock one early dawn as she happened to glance down at the ex-geisha's white, unharmed feet.

"How come you're not all cut up? No fair."

"Because, Tokie, I carry myself as a proper lady, and not as a clumsy swordswoman," she answered curtly, smiling slightly.

"Oh," Toklata answered seriously, not catching that she was teasing. "That's fine, then. I think it'll be more fun to be a swordswoman than to be fancy."

"You'd think right!" she agreed. Then, in an undertone, "And if I try to make you any more feminine than a pack of wild dogs, your master will wring my neck."

"No," the girl said in a silly tone of voice, shaking her head. "Master loves you!"

Indeed, Sakura and Ronin's relationship was an odd one. She was beautiful, and Ronin was Ronin, so one would expect them to perhaps be involved with some steamy love affair _thing_. However, Sakura was older than Ronin by more than just a few years, even if it didn't show on her soft face, and he treated her with an unreal amount of respect and admiration. (Jaden had always demanded the former, but the latter was out of sheer amazement of her.) They treated each other like beloved family, except for that they didn't fight at all, besides a bit of teasing here and there.

"Love or not, he will not stand for me teaching his assistant how to look pretty."

"Damn right," Ronin agreed, yawning. He was propped up against the base of the pine tree they were settled under, eyes closed peacefully. "Now hush; I'm tired. And we're getting pretty close to the Mountain, so this is probably the last bit of peace that I'll get."

"Tsk. So negative."

"Nn."

"We're almost there?!"

He hung his head, figuring that rest would be a long way off now that he had mentioned how close they were. "Yes."

"Hurray!"

"Calm down," Sakura said sweetly, before Ronin could throw in his words of choice. "You're so young! You're supposed to need a lot of sleep!"

"I'm not tired!"

"Maybe a bit of sparring will wear you out…?"

She visibly cringed at Sakura's suggestion. "I don't think so. It would be a waste of your energy."

"Maybe we should try? Just in case."

"No, that's okay."

Their eyes locked, both of them holding a stubborn, exasperated expression. Babysitting a young Ronin hadn't even been as challenging as doing the same for Toklata was proving to be.

Ronin opened his eyes and scowled, standing up (dodging overhead branches). "You can't try to be so nice about it, Sakura," he sighed, picking Toklata up by the back of her shirt. "Observe." He tossed her out of the thick pine, into the swirling snow outside.

She waited, listening to Sakura's harsh scolding. Moments later, Ronin flew out of the tree's sheltering branches as well, and aforementioned woman stalked out, picked the girl up off the ground, and carried her back into their semi-warm shelter.

"You stay out there, Ro!"

"Damn it all," he mumbled through the heap of snow he had landed face-first in. "She's the favorite now."

--

After finding another, considerably smaller pine tree to stay under for the daytime hours, settling down, and peacefully sleeping for the few hours he had left, Ronin was attacked by a starving assistant.

She jumped, as usual, onto his stomach, the same place where a bruise was starting to form because of repeated maulings. "I'm so hungry, master!" she cried, once sure he was awake. (She judged by his moans of pain.)

"Go ask Sakura for food, then! You don't need me!"

"You are food!" She bit his arm.

"What the hell?!" he snapped, shaking her off, into a pile of fallen pine needles.

Toklata recovered quickly, shaking the brownish-orange needles off of her clothes and out of her hair and smiling brightly. "Actually, I'm_ hungry_," she explained in an embarrassed tone of voice. "Like _hungry_, hungry." Her smile faltered.

"Ah," Ronin replied numbly, realization dawning. He sat up and reached for his pack, lifting it up into his lap and shifting through it for a few moments. Finally, he pulled out a carefully wrapped vial of a thick, crimson liquid. She grabbed for it, but he dangled it just out of her reach. "Apologize for getting me kicked out last night."

"That was totally your own fault! SAKURA! MASTER WON'T—"

He quickly clapped a hand over his student's oversized mouth, in fear of Sakura's newly-gained wrath. She_ had_ been the nicest person he knew, until Toklata had taken his spot of "The Loved One."

"Here," he growled, thrusting the bottle into Toklata's small hands. "Just leave some for me, you piglet."

She smiled gratefully and turned, raising it o her lips while facing the opposite direction. But before taking a sip of her much-anticipated drink, she turned, saw that Ronin was staring at her with a bored expression on his face, and turned a bright, bight red color.

"Don't watch me!"

"Whatever," he sighed dismissively, looking in the other direction.

It was another funny habit of Toklata's. She would drink blood without any trouble, but no one could be_ watching_ her, or she would get horribly embarrassed. As if there was something _shameful_ in it…

He stopped and considered that. She hadn't even had a choice in becoming a half-vampire, so he was rather fortunate that she was drinking at all… But to be so _weird_ about it!

It wasn't that she was squeamish. She'd gulp blood straight from the vein if she got a chance. But no one could be watching her.

"Done!" she announced, thrusting the empty bottle back into his hands and skipping off to find Sakura.

Ronin shook his head, annoyed after noting that the little leech had left him maybe three drops of blood at the very bottom of the vial, then stood up, and stretched.

A sharp pain ran up his back bone and through his wrists, leaving him doubled over in surprise and pain. The cold was getting to him as well, possibly_ more_ so than his hyperactive assistant (who he would never admit any weakness to anyway). And the pain had been getting worse lately… The trip, of course, would make him a bit slower, and a little sore, but he figured all the tiredness and achy joints he had been feeling lately were far too dramatic to be effects of their long journey.

He couldn't find any excuse for it. It wasn't his age, as Sakura was nearly two hundred years older than him, and she was as healthy as ever. He couldn't blame it on Toklata either. Even when she wasn't using his gut as a trampoline, he was still sore and slow. And the symptoms had started maybe a decade before he had even met the girl. They just intensified when he started to train her.

After catching his breath, Ronin straightened himself out and reached for his sword, but as he grasped it, another quick pain shot through the bones of his wrist. He stared down at the sword, which had come slightly out of its sheath when he dropped it, and tried again. This time, he succeeded, but decided that enough was enough, and that it was time to relay his concerns to someone.

He came out of his shelter, brushing away the light bit of snow that had sneaked through its branches and onto his shoulders. Toklata was happily running around in the puffy white stuff, throwing herself down at random moments and making snow angels, and then bolting back up and repeating the process. Sakura was off to the left, fiddling with her hair, but still keeping careful watch over the girl out of the corners of her chocolate-brown eyes.

"A word, Sakura?" he asked politely, heading towards her.

The woman turned to him happily, but frowned slightly when she caught the worried, serious look set in his bright golden eyes. "Is something wrong, Ro? You're looking paler than usual."

Before he could reply, however, Toklata used her superhuman selective-hearing powers to catch that they were leaving her out of something and stopped playing, coming over to the pair. "Hi."

"Get lost, girl."

"Toklata, could you please go occupy yourself for a bit?"

"Why?"

"Because, you twit, this is a meeting for full vampires _only_," Ronin replied harshly, turning her back in the direction she had come from.

"Aw. Sakura, do I have to?"

"It would be appreciated, Tokie."

She grumbled some dark things, but left without any intentions of eavesdropping, going back to her wintertime frolicking without too much disappointment.

Sakura sighed contentedly and repeated her earlier question. "Is something wrong, Ro?"

"Yes, actually…" He broke down, putting a nervous her slim shoulder and continuing in a hushed voice. "Something is wrong with me, Sakura. My body. It feels almost like arthritis, but I know that's not it. It's damn near impossible for arthritis to take hold of or even bother a vampire that badly. I'm just so fatigued and sore anymore… What's wrong with me? Please, please don't tell me that you don't know. You're the only person I can go to."

She obeyed his wish, but instead soberly asked, "How long?"

"Ten years or so now. Maybe longer. Training Toklata has really brought it out, though."

She looked away from his eager face, her own features sad and knowing. He waited patiently for her to explain, his grip on her shoulder tightening slightly.

"I have a kid to take care of now, Sakura. I need to know if I'm going to die."

A pause. Then, a cautious, "No. It is not a disease. It will not kill you. But…"

"'It' meaning…?"

Sakura stared dejectedly at her white hands, and whispered, "Jaden started to feel it too. But it was far less extreme in her…"

"Tell me."

She sighed. "Listen. Toklata's style of swordsmanship will most likely rely on her speed and flexibility. Jaden's stressed elegance and deadly accuracy. Your style, however, relies on the massive strength behind your moves, so you put all of your muscle and power into every swing of your katana. No matter how strong and healthy you are, or whether you are vampire or human, this repeated use of your strength starts to work away at you body after time. In other words, you are deteriorating further with each use. I would suggest that you only wield your sword when absolutely necessary. Otherwise, your ability to use it effectively will be gone in around a century. But you can lengthen that time by not pulling the thing out every time there's some simple trouble. Do you understand what I'm saying, Ro?"

Ronin nodded and blinked numbly, startled by the flow of information that he had just been attacked with. Two hundred and thirty-something wasn't really _that_ old, was it?

Toklata noticed that the two had stopped speaking and dashed over to them. "Ready to go?!" she cried, beaming and attaching herself to Ronin's left arm.

He managed a weak smile at her cheerful demeanor. "Yes. Let's go."

--

A/N—Um… The good news is field hockey is over, so I should be able to update better from now on. -.- Heh. The bad news is…Field hockey is over! T.T I'm so miserable. Oh well. This chapter is finally here, so enjoy.


	6. Chapter 6: Destination

Despite her recent lack of training, Toklata still sparred with either of her companions when she started getting bored and cold. Ronin was normally her first choice, but Sakura almost always made up some excuse for the girl to fight her instead and stepped into his place. (Of course, this was because of her recent diagnosis of his health, but neither of them had spoken a word of it to Toklata.)

She was getting much better against Sakura's spears; lasting much longer than she had before. Though part of this was largely due to the fact that Ronin was always analyzing their fights from the sidelines, since Sakura wouldn't let him lift a finger until they were in the mountain, and hinting to his assistant what she should do every time she got a little stuck.

It was one of these nights when they discovered Toklata's inborn talent; snowy, cold, slow-moving, and with the girl in question and Sakura standing opposite each other, waiting edgily for Ronin to give the starting signal. Toklata stood rather lopsided as they waited—the other woman had suggested that she use a real sword when they sparred so that she could feel the difference, and she certainly was feeling the extra weight—but once Ronin raised and dropped his hand and the fight began, she seemed to do okay with it.

Neither took off right away, and they stood edging around each other for a while. After a few minutes of this passed, Ronin yawned distractedly, stretched, and said blandly, "Too much caution will get you no where."

Toklata took it as a suggestion rather than a statement of growing boredom and unsheathed the blade, charging and slashing sideways at Sakura. She jumped gracefully out of the way and poked at the girl a bit, purposely playing. She blocked them all quite nicely, but didn't realize that she was taking a few steps backward with each block.

"Don't let her—Ugh!" her mentor scowled as her back hit a tree. "Too late; never mind. You really _have_ to stop falling for that one."

She sent him a nervous little smile, but then took her only choice and attacked. Sakura swiped the blade aside and pinned her right wrist, signaling lightly to Ronin that the match was over.

Toklata, however, disagreed, and dropped her sword into her free left hand, stabbing at Sakura's right wrist. To both full vampires' surprise, the blade caught, made a small cut, and she dropped her training spear, blinking. The half-vampire stepped out of the trap and turned ready to face her again, sword raised parallel to the ground.

Sakura picked up her spear slowly, in a kind of stupor, and came towards her small opponent, fascinated. She repeated her jabs, slowly at first, and then speeding up, examining Toklata's blocking movements.

Said girl eventually got tired of this repetition and quickly switched hands again, swinging fiercely and cutting into Sakura's side, leaving an ugly, bleeding gash.

"Damn," Ronin breathed. "Match over, I guess."

Toklata lowered her sword slowly. Then her brain began functioning again and she let out a shrill yelp. "Sakura! You're bleeding! I'm so sorrrrrry, Sakuraaaa-a-a-a!"

--

Several hours later, Sakura patted the bandaging that was protruding around her middle, with a sigh. She glanced at Toklata, bowing humbly in apology off in a corner, and then turned to Ronin. "Amazing," she breathed. "Ro, she seems to have the same strength in her left hand that she does in her right. Perhaps even flawless ambidexterity."

He turned to the girl, scowling when he saw she was still mumbling "I'm sorry" to Sakura, who had started to ignore her at that point after already forgiving her several times. "Stop that now. That's right, get up. Anyway, how come you never mentioned that you were ambidextrous?"

"Amby-what-er-us?" she sniffed, standing up after apologizing once more.

"It's when you can use both hands equally," Sakura explained. "Mostly it is a term used for being able to write neatly with either hand, but it also applies to other things, including swordsmanship. And don't you dare snap at her, Ro. She obviously didn't know!"

"Fair enough," Ronin sighed, not feeling like spoiling the good mood by arguing with her. "But what should we do about it?"

"Don't try to make it an advantage. Just continue training as usual. You can't have her relying on such a thing."

By now Toklata was convinced that she had some disease; some disease that you were born with but helped you rather than hurt you. And she was suddenly regretting missing her usual training. She glanced down at her white hands, her old blisters finally healing over into calluses.

Now they would have to train twice as hard once they got there. And she would have blisters on both hands…

--

They reached the mountain a week after their discovery, tired and cold. Toklata didn't seem horribly disappointed in the huge, looming feature, but admitted that she had expected some beautiful acropolis. Sakura laughed and patted her head; while Ronin just scowled (the girl_ was_ hanging off his arm at the time). But after a quick moment of frowning, she was bouncing up and down at the fact that they were there; pulling Sakura's sleeves, jumping all over poor Ronin, who was using all of his willpower to keep from smacking her.

"How do we get in?!" she exclaimed, still pulling and bouncing.

"The tunnels, stupid," he replied, shaking her off of him. He lowered his voice and muttered, "Maybe I can just hole up in the tunnels while you two run around being social."

"I heard that, Ro."

"I hate this place!" he whined childishly, making his assistant stop her joy to stare. "I hate all those other vampires; I don't get along with a single one of them!"

"You're lucky that I'm not Jaden, or I'd beat you for whining like that," Sakura sang, standing on her very tiptoes to reach up and straighten up his windblown hair.

"It's so easy for you to say that when everyone loves you!" he continued wearily.

"Well you'll have a companion this time."

"What?"

"Tokie, of course! She doesn't hate you! She wouldn't hate you no matter what happened!"

To emphasize Sakura's point, Toklata hugged his leg.

"Stop that, you leech!" he growled, smacking the top of her brown head. She unattached herself and he continued down the trail, closer to that dreaded mountain. His two companions followed close behind, their footsteps rather less moody.

"How do we get inside?" Toklata asked as they got closer. Ronin grunted in reply. She chose to simply follow him, and not to mess around with his unstable attitude at the moment.

They found an opening in the rocks, where a small stream was running from the mountain, and waded through it, into the darkness of the looming feature. Toklata again gripped onto Ronin's leg—hard enough to draw blood—in fear of getting separated from the other two and swept away with the current of the cool water. After nearly half an hour of this tedious process, however, he simply lifted her up onto his shoulders.

The slope rose considerably from that moment on and they ended up half-sloshing, half-climbing though the water for a large mass of time. The girl was left mostly unoccupied on Ronin's broad shoulders, and was left to take note of her surroundings; not that there was much to see. Mostly she just glanced down at Sakura, who was apparently much stronger than her delicate frame let on; though she didn't seem to look quite right as she was climbing.

After a big climax, the level panned out to a point where they were almost walking on a completely flat surface. A bit more of this, and they came into a large cavern. The water thundered around them, so, naturally, the older two pushed forward quickly, into a tunnel in the side of it, Ronin still carrying his childish scowl. He took his assistant off of his shoulders.

"Aw," she whined.

"Don't get lost," he suggested in return. A rather loud sigh came from behind them, though when they turned Sakura was looking innocently at the faintly glowing walls.

Toklata looked at them too, poking and prodding. "Why are the walls all lit up?" she asked, poking and prodding at them with her nails.

"The lichens that grow on them have a luminous quality. They're like fireflies, except a fungus."

The half-vampire drew her hand away from the wall with amazing speed and ran to catch up with Ronin, who had been counting on leaving them far behind.

--

After what seemed like hours of winding tunnels, climbing, and slipping, they came to a wooden door blocking off the rest of the tunnel.

"Last chance to turn around," Ronin pointed out to Sakura hopefully, but she just pushed ahead of him and knocked several times.

The door opened, bringing an uncomfortable amount of torchlight with it, revealing a green-clad vampire; rather surly looking. "Address yourselves to the gate," he commanded gruffly.

"I am Sakura Hiroshi, come to seek Council," Sakura nearly sang. She was pawing anxiously at her silk bag, looking ready to just burst right through all of the guards within the next few moments.

"Ronin Takoda, come to seek Council. Well, Sakura made me, really. I would leave now if she wouldn't stab me for it, steal my assistant, and make her into a geisha." He ignored the woman's wicked looks when he was finished and instead glanced uninterestedly at his nails.

Toklata had lost interest and was no longer paying attention, but trying absent-mindedly to grab her wooden sword from Ronin's bag, high up as it was. He put a hand on her head and turned her towards the guard impatiently.

"Oh! I'm Toklata Samson—but Sakura likes to call me Tokie, and master likes to call me Wistful Eyes, or sometimes Idiot-Student-of-Mine—come to seek Council." She offered a wide smile.

The guard ignored her. "Miss Hiroshi is recognized by the gate. But you two aren't."

Ronin scowled, looking away a little guiltily. "Um…How about Roden Sawyer, then? Roden Sawyer, come to seek Council."

"You haven't come since Jaden died?!" Sakura demanded. "You anti-social, crude, vindictive little_ hermit!"_

"Roden Sawyer is recognized by the gate," the guard cut in. "And the girl?"

"Sawyer?" the girl in question choked. "No wonder you took your master's last name!"

"She is my idiot student. A half-vampire."

"Do you vouch for her?"

He glanced at her, laughing away at his former surname, and nearly refused. But he got a good look at Sakura's face before he chose to. "I do," he sighed, defeated.

"Then Toklata Samson is recognized by the gate. You may proceed." He stepped out of the way quickly as a certain ex-geisha nearly dove through the door.

--

Toklata and her irritable master were escorted to the Hall of Osca Velm; the hall of welcome. Sakura had chosen to skip it, even forgetting to tell them where she was off to after she charged though the wooden door in the tunnel.

"Where are you going?" Toklata had called after her, only to receive no answer, as the woman was long gone.

"The Hall of Perta Vin-Grahl, no doubt," Ronin had answered. "I'm positive that wearing those warm-ups and being so dirty is killing her. She's gone to clean up, do her hair, and throw on a kimono."

And with that, they had followed the guard to their own destination.

"She's a little young, don't you think? Weird."

Ronin answered with a grunt, his hand going unconsciously to his sword's hilt.

"Well either way, don't lose her."

"I won't," was his bitter, bitten out reply.

--

A/N—That one took a while too, huh? Well, I really don't have an excuse this time; just a bit of writer's block, I guess. But I'm thinking that now that they're there, it's going to be easier to come up with stuff now… Hopefully.


	7. Chapter 7: Protector

Toklata poked half-heartedly at the stale bread before her, half asleep, arm wedged between her cheek and the table, which she was a little short for anyway.

"Do I have to eat this?" she whined, prodding some more.

"You could starve."

"This place isn't as great as Sakura made it out to be."

He grinned. "Oh good, she hasn't managed to brainwash you yet! You're going to be just like me!"

A horrified expression crossed her face quickly, before she realized that her mentor was about to smack her across the head and she wiped that face off of her features, trying to take a bite out of the rock-hard bread instead. She nearly chipped a tooth and set it back down. "Is there any other food?"

"Fortunately, yes," he replied. "It's the only thing good about this place. You want your shoes back?"

She brightened and grabbed for the bag slung over his shoulders, pulling out her thin, battered flip-flops with a speed that she had never bothered to show in her training. Speaking of which…

"We will resume your training as of tomorrow."

She was caught somewhere between dread of the work lying before her and happiness of continuing something she found she was actually rather good at, and so didn't reply at all.

"And you know, this is probably a good time to teach you how to be more aware of your surroundings, with all of these other people around. A swordsman's sixth sense."

She did smile at that. "Wow! So I'll be psychic?!"

"Not exactly," Ronin half-laughed in return. Indeed, he was already finding that the whole experience of the mountain became slightly more welcoming with Toklata in tow. He started to smile, caught himself, and stood up instead, with a scowl. "I guess we're done here," he said, back in his usual cool tone, "since you don't seem too fond of that bread. We should go find Sakura and a room to stay in…but maybe not in that order."

"Okay," she agreed cheerily, standing up as well and nearly tripping over the chair she had been sitting on in her mad rush. A group of vampires in the corner snickered nastily. Ronin was about to send a wicked glare and all of his negative energy in their direction, but Toklata herself handled it, straightening up, turning to them, and giving them a flustered but cute smile, then skipping away. They all abruptly cut off their hissed laughter and stared, dumbfounded, as Ronin smirked at them and followed his assistant, a gentle hand on her shoulder, leading the way.

--

They found their way deep into the mountain, brushing past more lichen and hollow caverns on the way, though not many actual vampires. Toklata examined everything they passed with wide eyes as they walked, clutching tightly on to Ronin's pant leg in fear of being left behind. She found everything to be, in general, much bigger than her, and therefore rather intimidating. Halfway through their searching, she asked to have her wooden sword—Ronin grudgingly obliged—and drug it behind her the rest of the way.

Finally, they found an elderly red-clad vampire running around, organizing things in a rather cluttered cavern full of scratchy blankets, coffins, and other various rooming items.

Ronin cleared his throat to catch the man's attention, which he did, and then continued in a tone that seemed too rushed. "I'll need a room; don't bother with a coffin—"

"Roden? Roden Sawy—"

"Don't say it," he growled, wincing. "Besides, my name is Ronin now. Ronin Takoda."

"I have not seen you since—"

"I know."

The vampire gave a worn-out smile. "Your attitude has not changed either. However…it seems that you have sprouted a new pair of legs." He motioned downward, to the small legs and flip-flop-clad feet sticking out of the bottom of the man's cloak.

"Ah." Ronin tugged at his cloak, and it opened to reveal Toklata, surprised at first, and then timidly smiling.

"Ah! What's this?"

"My assistant."

"So young! There's an epidemic of them lately."

Ronin blinked. "Are there other children here?"

"Just one. A boy—older than this one here, but only by a bit. From _my_ own assistant," he sighed disapprovingly. "They've already had some trouble, and you are not exactly popular around here, so you should expect worse. I am sure you know that the Princes will not approve…"

He laughed bitterly. "And since when have I cared what the Princes say? All they're going to see is a little girl with a toy sword; they're not gonna care to look any deeper."

"You are starting to rant," he warned, squatting down to Toklata's height. Then he said, "I will introduce myself, as your rude mentor has failed to. I am Seba Nile, the quartermaster here at the mountain. And you are?"

"Toklata Samson," she answered happily, shyness forgotten somewhere along the line.

"That is a mouthful of a name," Seba laughed. "Now, back to business. Will you two be staying in the same room?"

"Of course. This little idiot couldn't find her way around here without me," Ronin snorted, rolling his eyes. "Wistful Eyes, you want a hammock to sleep in?"

"Yes."

"Okay. So a room with one hammock."

"What about Sakura?" Toklata inquired.

"She won't say it, but she's seen enough of us. We'll leave her be until she comes looking for us."

Seba, who had somehow managed to keep track of their conversation, nodded and called for one of the younger vampires to set up their room so he could continue organizing things.

"I can not say that I approve," Seba sighed as they were leaving, motioning to Toklata. "But I will wish you luck all the same."

"I don't need it," Ronin snorted dismissively, waving a lazy hand to Seba. He turned to leave, and the ends if his lips curled slightly into that customary smirk as he again put a protective hand onto Toklata's messy hair. "Not…me," he laughed softly, placing his other hand over his sword's hilt.

--

They silently followed the other vampire through countless tunnels, poor Toklata only growing even more lost, and Ronin only getting more irritated with everything. His confident smirk had been replaced with a frown at the first time the tunnel they were in branched off into more tunnels. That frown was replaced with a scowl at the next crossroads, and at the one after that he was looking severely angry, and after that, ready to kill.

They finally reached their room after possible half an hour of walking, Ronin looked as if he were going to grab their guide's neck and just squeeze. He roughly instructed for him to leave everything else to them, and the young man left in quite a hurry, handing over the cloth for the hammock and rope with amazing speed and rushing off.

Ronin began to tie up the hammock while his assistant examined the room. "It's so…gloomy," she noted disheartedly.

"Just like the rest of the mountain," her mentor snarled back, emphasizing his rough words with a tug on the rope.

"You sound mad."

"Or course! I hate this wretched place; I've always hated coming here! And worse, you're gonna cause me even more trouble than I would normally be bombarded with!"

She took a few shaky steps away from him, as his voice was rising with a steady pace, and she really didn't want to be within his reach at the moment. She'd noticed his attitude throughout the night, and had tried to cheer him up, but now he was blaming his mood on her, and she was simply at a loss of cheering-up words. "Are you…mad at me?" she asked timidly.

He whirled around suddenly, causing the girl to yelp in surprise and flinch, closing her big eyes and covering her head, expecting a punch to connect. Nothing came, but Ronin, of course, didn't fail to notice her fear, and he blinked in surprise. "Tokie…"

"I'm sorry, master."

He crouched down and sighed, putting a hand to her cheek. She opened one eye slowly, then the other, curiosity mingling with her fear.

"Stop that," he cooed, voice turning gentle. "Tokie, you don't have anything to be sorry for, so stop that cowering. Listen. I would _never_ hit you out of anger. You know that."

She nodded slowly.

"But, that's not to say that nobody is gonna try to push you around. You can't be afraid of me, because as of now, Sakura and I are the only people you can trust. Okay?"

She nodded again, making eye contact this time.

"Good." He took on a stern tone of voice and started, "Now, we should get some—"

But, before he could finish, Toklata sprung forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a death grip. He choked and nearly topped over backwards, but regained his composure soon enough and stood up. She remained hanging from his neck limply until he deposited her in the rather rickety-looking hammock.

"Does that feel okay?" he asked, as she released him and squirmed into the fabric.

"Yes," she said, even daring to smile a bit.

"Good. You'd better rest now, because tomorrow—"

"We will resume my training. Right. Where are _you_ gonna sleep?"

"Against the wall," he said, sitting down and doing just that, leaning his back to the wall and crossing his sword over his chest, holding onto it.

"Against the wall?"

"It prevents nightmares… Well, that's what I've heard, anyway."

"From who?"

"Toklata…" he growled.

"Sorry."

It was silent for a few moments, and Ronin began to drift off, before Toklata's soft voice piped up again.

"Master?"

"Mm?"

"I love you."

Now _he_ was the one at a loss; flustered and maybe even turning a bit red in the cheeks. After taking some time to regain his ability to speak, he mumbled coolly, lamely, "Ah."

--

Ronin hadn't anticipated being the subject of everyone in the Hall's attention during Toklata first day back to training. Sparring and matches of all type stopped to watch him "beat on the little girl," and he just_ hated_ it. He cursed himself for not thinking to practice in an empty cavern instead, but pressed on regardless, refusing to let the spectators take away from her lesson.

She, too, was forcing herself not to be bothered by them, but was only succeeding very narrowly, and her concentration was lacking because of them. She was doing horribly, her skin turning purple all over from all of the places Ronin had already managed to hit her.

"Listen!" he growled over the mumbling crowd. "You have to take advantage of that speed of yours! Don't just use it to dodge, use it to take the offensive too! There's a type of swordsmanship that takes advantage of speed, called battojutsu. It's the art of drawing the sword from the sheath—Pay attention!"

"Sorry!"

He put a hand to his forehead, exasperated. "Okay. We can't do this. Tomorrow, we'll train somewhere else. For today, five hundred sword strokes."

"B-but master!"

"I have a better idea," came a cool voice from the edge of the spectators.

Both of them quickly located the owner of the voice, a young man of average height and a slim but muscular build. He had blond hair that parted in the middle and fell loosely over one side of his face, covering it completely, while it waved off on the other side, and the showing eye was an absolutely frigid blue. A red strip of fabric was tied around his forehead, keeping his hair somewhat in place, before disappearing into it. But ignoring his appearance, one couldn't help but notice the _huge_ Japanese-styled scythe leaning against his build.

"Ishin Kadoma," Ronin snarled in way of greeting, not bothering with false politeness. "What's this brilliant idea of yours?"

The man's small mouth curved into an honest smile, one that Toklata couldn't help but like him for, though her master clearly didn't. "What if I sparred this young lady? I just can't believe that you would make a good teacher, but she does seem to be a decent swordswoman. I'd like to see."

Her eyes ran over his perhaps seventy-five pound scythe, and she took comfort in knowing that her master would never agree to it.

"Fine," Ronin agreed.

Toklata's eyes grew twice their normal size as she stared at her mentor in horror. He didn't seem to notice her expression, however, and stepped into the crowd of other vampires, while the young man found his way opposite of Toklata, what had been Ronin's place moments before.

"I'm Ishin Kadoma," he introduced, his face coldly blank now. "A vampire general. I'll let you make the first move."

She looked around nervously, but with no signs of it being a joke, slowly gripped her wooden sword.

--

A/N—EEP! This is probably the longest I've ever been! Forgive me! T.T I don't even really have an excuse, I just got really, really stuck on this chapter. I sat down today and said, "Okay. You have to finish this today." And I did, but still… I tried to make it longer than usual, if only even by as little bit… Meh.


	8. Chapter 8: General Ishin

Toklata's eyes wavered over Ishin's scythe as he stepped into the empty ring created by the surrounding crowd. Then, they moved desperately to Ronin, who refused to make eye contact with her, instead looking at Ishin calmly. She gave up on him and glanced around for any signs of Sakura in the crowd, knowing that she would pull her out of her current situation, but to no avail.

"I'll let you make the first move," he said, relaxing a bit.

Seeing absolutely no way out of it, she put on a brave, if a bit shaky face. "Shouldn't it be more official?" she asked. "Master?"

The other vampires mumbled amongst themselves as Ronin turned to face her now, his features completely unreadable. "Sure," he yawned, stepping out of the mob a bit and positioning himself roughly between the two fighters, though off to the side. "This'll be a one-hit match. The terms are simple—First, this is a no-death match."

Toklata's eyes got wide again. Some of the vampires in the crowd groaned and left.

"First hit wins. On my mark… What the hell, just go at it."

They both waited—Toklata holding a stance, and Ishin leaning on the pole of his scythe, blade towering over his head.

"You can make the first move," he reminded her.

She looked at him, considered it, almost charged, and then thought better of it. She relaxed from her stance. Taking into consideration her elaborate defensive training and putting on a bright smile, she said, "Usually the instigator of the fight takes the offensive."

"Usually I don't fight children," he responded in a light, sociable tone. Another honest smile came over his face. "I'm trying to give you an advantage."

"I don't need it." Her smile almost—_almost—_turned to a cool smirk.

His, however, turned wicked, as he replied with a curt, "Fine," and charged forward, swinging the scythe in a vicious sideways arc. She barely had time enough to dodge, but somehow managed to duck ungracefully.

She analyzed everything in his strike. Ishin himself was fast, but his weapon was so huge that he couldn't take advantage of that, and it moved a lot slower than her sword could. Plus, he could only swing it up and down or sideways, which left his attacks easy to read and his body without a good defense.

After dodging, she pushed forward, swinging at his right arm, left wide open after his strike. But, in comparison to the heavy scythe, her sword was too short to cause any offensive damage without being very close to its target, and Ishin moved out of its path with a single step.

Left unstable after the attempted strike, and now on his opposite side, Toklata struggled to regain her balance. Straightening up her stance, she had just enough time to see the pole of the scythe racing for her middle before it hit.

After a quick, thoughtless attempt to protect herself, the wooden handle of the scythe hit the closest thing to it, and she was whipped around and flung onto the ground a ways in front of Ishin. Something clattered over to Ronin's feet, and he looked at it with satisfaction, but everyone else's attention was on the unmoving lump on the ground that was Toklata.

"Well, that's the match," Ishin sighed, looking to Ronin.

He smirked lazily. "So you're forfeiting, then, Ishin?" he asked innocently, leaving the general awkwardly confused.

"It doesn't matter that she can keep fighting," he pointed out coolly as Toklata began to groan and pick herself up off the ground. "In a one-hit match, the first hit wins."

"The first hit to connect with a body wins," Ronin corrected. Ishin still regarded him with cool interest, and so he went on. "If that strike had hit her body, it probably would have broken a rib or two. What you broke was…"

He leaned down and picked up the piece of mutilated wood at his feet, then hurled it to Toklata, who caught it with a single hand and stared dejectedly at it. "Is it fixable?" he asked her roughly.

She held up her wooden sword—or rather, half of her wooden sword—and placed the piece of wood—or rather, the other half of her wooden sword—over it, examining the break with her tongue poking out of her mouth a bit.

"I don't think so," she answered sadly, looking down at the separate pieces.

"Of course not," Ronin snorted exasperatedly. One would think him angry if they hadn't noticed the conceited, satisfied way he looked over to Ishin for the fleeting moment after.

"I see," the general sighed, smiling. "You stuck that toy sword of yours between your side and the scythe before it hit."

Understanding came over the huge mob of vampires surrounding them, and they began to chat with others around them until the cavern was filled with a dull roar.

"But," he continued, smile slipping away as he stepped into a stance with his scythe, "you haven't won, you've only postponed your defeat. And now your weapon is broken."

Only tilted her head at him, and Ronin shouted, "If you're trying to get her to forfeit, Ishin, she doesn't even know the meaning of the word."

He remained silent, icy blue eyes boring into Toklata as she nervously began to fidget, trying to figure out what to do. Ishin kept patiently holding his stance, but the crowd began to murmur, and soon the cavern was filled with a dull roar.

After quite a few frantic thoughts, she placed each half of her wooden sword in either hand and charged at him, ducking underneath his scythe blade as he swung it.

But he retaliated by kicking her. Hard. In the stomach. She flew again, landing right at Ronin's feet and looking up into his eyes. She expected him to be disappointed at the very least, but he was actually smiling down at her proudly. He offered her a hand and helped her stand up, saying arrogantly "That wasn't too bad, Wistful Eyes."

"But I lost," she answered dismally, hopping right up to her feet with his strong arm helping to support her and brushing herself off.

"You did," he agreed, still smirking. "But the crowd is impressed—and more importantly, you surprised Ishin."

She blinked and looked around, only confirming her mentor's words as the vampires in the mob surrounding them clapped and cheered despite her loss. Then, she scanned the room for Ishin, who she found off to the side picking up his scythe, which he had roughly abandoned when he had kicked her.

As he stood back up, he caught her eye and sauntered over to them, smiling sourly. His hair was a little mussed, but there were no other signs that he had done anything, let alone been in a fight. "You're pretty decent," he admitted, kneeling down to her height and looking into her round turquoise eyes. "Clever and quick-thinking, at least. But still, there's room for improvement, and you'd better be diligent in your training. Even if it is with _this_ man." He jarred his thumb upwards at Ronin, who was glaring down his nose at the man, sending rolling _waves_ of negative energy in his direction.

Taking the hint, Ishin straightened up. "You're unharmed, for the most part, so I'll take my leave now," he said, bowing graciously to her. (He went out of his way to show that his bow was for _her_; her alone, and not Ronin.) Then he turned and left, disappearing into the crowd, though the top of his scythe was visible for a ways still.

Ronin scowled. "Annoying dog," he spat venomously, watching him go.

"He seems nice," Toklata contradicted, rubbing at her sore limbs. "He was to me, anyway." Ronin snorted in response.

The crowd started to slowly file out, until, finally, there was only a single vampire left, glaring daggers at Ronin as she stomped over to the pair, a practice spear in hand. She was back to her full glory—hair done up elaborately, a red and gold kimono gracing her curves—but her angry expression didn't fit her kind face at all. Both noticed, but Ronin was the one to say it.

"Oh, Sakura, you'd look so much nicer if you had that little geisha-smile right now," he purred, in a desperate attempt to get said woman to lower her weapon.

She smacked him over the head with it. "Your charm doesn't work on me; you know that!"

"Ow! When'd you get so mean, dammit?!"

"Jaden's gone now—_someone_ has to keep you in line!" she barked, hitting him again. "Now, what's with sending Tokie out to beat up Ishin?!"

"He insulted me!" he huffed, kicking childishly at the ground. "Besides, everything was fine. I hate him and he hates me, but he's not heartless, and I knew that he wouldn't do any horrible damage."

" 'If that strike had hit her body, it probably would've broken a rib or two,' " Sakura snarled, repeating his words, complete with the conceited tone of voice. "That's not '_any horrible damage_?!' "

"Well…" he considered, falling silent for a long time. Sakura waited somewhat patiently—tapping her foot restlessly, but not bothering to hit him again, while Toklata took the time to absent-mindedly study the Hall. Finally, he took a breath and turned stoic, asking soberly, "Sakura, will you take care of Tokie for a bit tonight?"

"W-what?" she stuttered, startled by the change of conversation. Straightening herself and her mind out, she asked, "And just what do you plan on doing, then?"

"Drinking, womanizing…what else?" he laughed sourly, turning away without waiting for a sure reply. "I'll be in the Hall of Khledon Lurt if you need me. But…do me a favor, and don't need me."

And with that _warm, fuzzy_ line, he left that Hall for another; left Sakura and Toklata staring after him like idiots, broken sword and spear falling limply out of their hands.

"He…He's acting so strangely," the woman sighed sadly, placing a hand on Toklata's head and ruffling her hair softly. "I would say that I'm worried, but this is our Ro we're talking about…"

"I'm worried," Toklata interjected, despite the subject of her worry being "their Ro."

"Don't be," Sakura insisted, forcing herself to slap on a smile. "Now, we have a few hours without him around, so what should we do?"

The girl smiled a bit too. "Let's go back to my room," she suggested, pulling at the sleeve of Sakura's kimono. "I'll find something to do!"

Both smiles grew temporarily wider, worry forgotten for the time being as they picked up their weapons of choice and also made their way out of the Hall.

--

It had taken them a while to get there, as Sakura hadn't yet known where exactly the two were staying, and Toklata hadn't realized that she had no idea where she was going until they were already deep into the system of tunnels. They had then backtracked for a while, finally managing to find Seba and ask him to escort them to the mentor's and assistant's room, feeling very much like idiots again. He had graciously accepted, though, and led them there within ten minutes.

So, Toklata lay sprawled across the floor, several colors of shabby-looking crayons scattered around her and an equally shabby-looking notebook. While she worked on "creating a masterpiece," Sakura lazed in her small hammock, absent-mindedly picking at her three-stringed shamisen, which she had thought to grab from her room after passing it for a third time.

"Why do master and Ishin hate each other?" the child asked suddenly, still staring down at the paper soberly. She reached for a blue crayon and blotted something in, concentrating intently.

Sakura stopped her strumming and sighed. "Well…" she started, "it's simple. Ishin is a Vampire General, one of the most loyal there is, and Ro thinks he's a dog. Then, your mentor is a free sword who doesn't care much for politics, so Ishin brands him as a sort of rebel. Both of them are correct about each other, and just can't stand the other one's chosen lifestyle, for some reason."

"That's stupid."

"It is," she agreed. "What's worse is that there's plenty of 'loyal dogs' and 'lazy rebels' for them to get irritated by, but they always pick each other to snap at."

"That's it?" Toklata asked slowly. "No one wants revenge or something?"

"Not that I know of," the older woman responded with a yawn, reaching up and beginning to take out the pins and combs holding up her hair. "It must be past dawn," she said offhandedly.

Toklata didn't respond, but kept coloring. The sound of her crayons rubbing against the paper and the soft rustling of Sakura's kimono as she reached up to pull her hair free was all that could be heard for a long time.

"It could be because of Jaden," Sakura murmured after a while. "Maybe something happened between her and Ishin…?"

Again, the younger girl failed to respond, and the sound of scratching utensils and fabric rustling faded in again for a while. Then, the rustling stopped, and was replaced by Sakura tossing and turning around a bit, and then by silence. Toklata turned, found her sitter asleep in her hammock, and went back to her drawing,

Moments later, she held it up and admired the finished result, smiling. Some of the colors were off, but she thought that it might cheer her mentor up, even if only a little.

Speak of the devil…amongst Sakura's soft snores; she could hear the man approaching. She beamed even more, beginning to stand up to meet him before faltering as she thought about what she was hearing.

She was never able to sense him of hear him coming. Because normally he didn't make a sound. She was sure that what she was hearing was definitely his voice…

_But since when has he… I've never heard him… Is it really…? _Exasperated by her own thoughts, she poked her head out the door, confirming it, before pulling herself back in against the wall, eyes wide.

_Master is…is **singing**!_

And sure enough, he found his way into the room—with some difficulty, as he was looking considerably unstable and swaying every which way—with soft words crossing his lips. His bangs hung limply over his eyes as he tried once; twice; three times to pull his sword from his belt, succeeding getting a hold of it on the fourth and tossing it limply to the ground, then falling into a crumpled heap against the wall.

Toklata watched cautiously as he hung his head. He continued singing. Really, his voice was quite nice, soothing almost—a deep, rich baritone—but it was just the whole idea that baffled the girl so.

Utterly confused, she made her way over to, and sat down next to one very drunk Ronin Takoda.

--

A/N-Well…I'm usually not too good with fight scenes…but I think this one turned out okay… Well, tell me what you think. Hopefully I'll be updating a lot more regularly again…


	9. Chapter 9: Fear and Despair

Now, Toklata, ever-naïve, didn't yet realize that her mentor was completely and utterly wasted as she crawled over towards him, drawn to his deep, hypnotic, baritone of a voice. Finally reaching his place against the wall, she pushed her own back against it and settled next to him, simply listening. Being so close at that point, she realized that he wasn't singing in English, and then puzzled over whether it was a happy tune or a sad one. With his face still obscured, and the words to his tune in another language, she was forced to simply sit and listen to the rises and falls of his voice to discover the nature of his song—and thus, his attitude as well.

Within a few moments she had slapped a label on him. The song…was slow, spoken in a soft, ghostly tone, and his voice was jumping all over the place in a sort of half-wail. It was…sad. He was sad.

_Master is…sad?_ She questioned herself, disbelieving. To try and confirm it, she twisted around to sit in front of him, reaching slowly up to his face and brushing his bangs away.

Dull, tired eyes stared back at her, framed by a reddened face, but other than that, he didn't look as if he were upset, as his lips curved into a big, goofy smile, and he swiftly pulled her into a tight hug.

Taken aback, she settled uncomfortably in his arms for a few moments, waiting. In those moments, she nearly wretched over the horrible scent hanging closely around him, a scent that she had never recognized him by, and couldn't quite place, and began to squirm a bit after he failed to show any signs of releasing her. He pulled his arms away and smiled again after her light protest.

"How are you feeling?" she ventured as silence threatened to settle over them for good.

"Oh, gr-great!" he hiccupped back, leaning forward a bit and swaying around. "I am sssso fricken' proud of you! …I mean, I w-wasssh... Oh, but I sh-still am!" He laughed loudly, turning his body around and laying himself across the stone floor of the room.

"Nothing's wrong?" she checked, scooting herself next to him and pushing stray bangs out of his face once again.

He stared up at her for a long time, smile falling away slowly. Finally, he looked away and murmured a slurred and nervous "Maybe…" while sheepishly poking his fingers together.

"Maybe?" she repeated skeptically, poking at his ribs. He kept his mouth closed, and so she prodded at him again, twisting her face into as stern of an expression as she could manage. "You can tell me anything, master."

The mentor she knew all too well would have snorted, smacked her on the head for being silly, and sent her off to bed, and she half-expected it from this one as well. But this mentor, sitting before her in an open heap on the floor, smiled again and said pleasantly, "You_ can _call me by my name, Wishtful E-eyesh..."

"But master—"

"No! I…_inshist_ that you call me by n-name!"

Toklata stared at him, considering that their whole encounter—and all of the singing, too—was some silly joke, and beginning to get a little irritated, wondering offhandedly if the annoyance she was suddenly plagued with was what _he_ felt when she wasn't grasping a technique or stance quickly enough for him.

"…Fine," she replied slowly, after searching his features and making absolutely certain that he wasn't simply testing her.

"Great!" he sighed happily, looking at her warmly and making as if he would finally answer her earlier question of what was troubling him. But, much to her disappointment, he eventually turned his head away and went back to singing, though this time in English.

She tried desperately to listen to and comprehend his lyrics, but all too soon the words began to slur together and run in to one another, and, tongue-tied, he gave up on that and started humming instead.

"Mas—er, Ronin, what's wrong?" she asked as the tune turned depressing again. He kept humming, blatantly ignoring her, so she went to poking him again, and, when that didn't work, yanking at his hair.

Ronin replied with a hiccup and rolled around to face her, features drawn into sadness and loathing.

Toklata grimaced and began to apologize, thinking for just one final time that night that he was playing some cruel trick, and that she had finally tapped into his breaking point, bracing herself for some irritated yelling. …But nothing came.

"What's wrong?" she prompted him again, voice much softer and careful now.

He forced himself to draw his pale eyes to her bright, lively ones, and a sort of understanding passed between them. In an almost sober thought, he reminded himself that he had told her only the other night that she could trust him, so it seemed stupid not to trust her in return. With a sigh, he reached for his bag, sitting in the very corner of the room, and rummaged through it until he found that silver strip of fabric, the "shawl," the one Toklata had so nonchalantly dragged through mud and stones not horribly long before. Pulling it out, he fell back into his place amongst the hard, dirty floor, cradling the fabric as if he were a young child, and it a security blanket. Then, he spoke.

"I'm ssso…so scared."

Toklata was left with nothing to say at that statement—in fact, she couldn't even imagine it. Her proud mentor…scared?

_Of what?_ She mused, not so sure that she wanted to know the answer of the question of, _What could possibly be so utterly terrifying that _Ronin Takoda_ himself was so uprooted about it?_

She came to the conclusion that she _couldn't _help him within a matter of moments. She figured that something even slightly frightening to_ him_ would probably drive _her_ to tears and into the security of his cloak. But—as she _is_ Toklata—that's not to say that she wouldn't _try_ to help him…

"Why are you scared, mas—Ronin? I mean, I can't ever remember you being afraid of _anything._"

He didn't reply for a long time; just sat there cradling and staring at his silver "security blanket" lovingly. Toklata was about to ask him a second time, before he hiccupped again and looked up, swaying in a dangerous way that suggested that he might topple over onto her small body at any moment.

"I'm scared th-that something might happen to you," he admitted, glancing at her quickly, but then tearing his gaze away again.

Despite the fact that he didn't yell or get angry, Toklata had to admit to herself that she was no fan of this timid mentor. Such a cowardly personality simply didn't fit his huge body. She put on a comforting smile in an attempt to bring back his confidence, saying cheerily, "I'm sure that you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. You'd always protect me, I know it!"

The expression of mingled hatred and sadness came over his face again as he closed his eyes and brought a hand to his forehead. "What if…what if I just can't?" he asked desperately, and it hit Toklata that the look of loathing on his face wasn't of her, but of himself.

"Why…why wouldn't you? You're so strong!" she blurted out, starting to get a little worried for him at that point. "Are you sick?" she demanded, grasping a shoulder and trying to shake some sense into him, and failing.

"It's…not that," he said, though he did sound rather ill as he said it, and still harbored from her the ugly fact that his bones and muscles were wearing away.

"Ronin…what is it, then?"

"I…I've just never been able to protect the most important ones."

Taken aback at this painful, heart wrenching confession, Toklata didn't say or do a thing… And eventually, Ronin went on by himself, without any gentle pressure from her.

"The best a swordsman can do is p-protect the people around him. Sure…when it comesh down t-to it, I guessh I-I've saved plenty of r—_hic!_ —random passherby, but…" He gripped the fabric tighter and took a steadying, sobering breath to help fix his slowly worsening speech, then slammed a fist into the rock floor.

"But…I couldn't protect the people most important to me!" he snarled, shaking his head with thick disappointment and grief. "First was my mother…so long ago that all I can really remember is her screaming, and then telling Jaden that I wanted to be stronger; telling her to teach me how to swing a sword around just like her."

Toklata listened with grim fascination, not daring to interrupt him, as he had worked into a rage. But it was also from interest. She had heard about Jaden, of course, but Ronin hadn't ever revealed any more of his past. She tuned in again, watching him with wide eyes, though he was talking more to himself and hardly even took notice of her attentive posture.

"Then it was Rai—my love, my _wife!_" A bitter choke. "…Even after I told her…I told her that I would always protect her! Even after that, I…I…" he shook his head, not able to bring himself to say the words that had formed in his mind, and started a new sentence. "And master! Master, she was sick, and I didn't help her! She told me not to…but I should have! She could have still been alive; she would have outlived all of us!"

He stopped, shoulders slumping and body leaning forward. Then, in a murmur, "And even though _she's_ still alive…even Sakura bears scars left on my behalf." He sharply breathed in an unsteady breath and turned to face Toklata, recalling her presence now. "So what if…I can't protect_ you_?"

He looked ready to cry, in all honesty, which was simply a very awkward sight, and Toklata couldn't think of any way to comfort him.

Luckily, a certain ex-geisha—who the half-vampire had forgotten about, and who Ronin had failed to notice at all—had been awakened by the man's pathetic wailing, and was now prepared to save them both from embarrassing themselves any more. She slipped soundlessly from Toklata's small hammock and found her way to Ronin's side, bringing her shamisen with her as if out of force of habit. "Stop that," she cooed softly, though still in a slightly scolding tone, as she slid against the wall by Ronin, setting her head on his shoulder. "Ro, you can't blame yourself over things like that. If you concentrate on your past memories, then you won't be focused enough to protect the present. And that's what's most important."

"But…but Ssshakura…" he wailed, words beginning to stick together again now that his speech was through.

She pressed a dainty finger to his lips. "That's not important. What's important right now is that you get some sleep, so you're alert tomorrow."

"But I can't…I can't sh—"

She hushed him again, began plucking at her shamisen rhythmically—and soon enough, she was singing as well; the same sad song Ronin had sang earlier. Without the slurs of his drunken voice, Toklata was able to place the language as Japanese. And as she nodded off into the trance Sakura was creating with her soft voice, leaning on her master's shoulder, she was able to distinguish the hazy smell hanging around him as the smell of far too much alcohol, and make sense of the whole evening.

_Or is it daytime?_ she questioned herself deliriously, before plunging into the dreamland Sakura had created with her melody and ensnared both mentor and student in.

--

Ronin Takoda…just _wasn't_ a happy man when he woke up to both a throbbing hangover and a sleeping—no, _drooling_—student leaning on his right arm. And then, he was utterly clueless as to why no one other than Sakura had stolen the child's hammock, which didn't make him any happier. And…and was that his beloved katana strewn halfway across the room?! And he was all twisted in silver silk!

Toklata stirred, and mumbled a, "Good morning…er, night, Ronin"

_Whack!_

"You will refer to me as master!"

"But you said—"

"Now go get woken up, we've got a lot of training to do!"

There was a moan, but no further protest. He smirked. Smirked at his own self-control and the secrecy he held over his student's head.

…Until Sakura spotted him and reviewed the previous night's antics.

--

A/N-Wow! I didn't think it would take the whole chapter to get out Ronin's drunkenness… All in all, I think it could have been a little bit better. Hmmm. Things to discuss…

Well, I said that Ronin's voice was a baritone. It was in the first few sentences, so I actually wrote it last Sunday, when I was just starting this chapter. But then, in band rehearsal this week, we got to play in the auditorium. I sat directly in front of the baritone sax. And got the full meaning of the word. All things considered, I still think it fits him.

The return of the shawl! Except…now it's a security blanket? No. Contrary to popular belief, (meaning Toklata's beliefs) it is not. It doesn't have much else to do with this story—hopefully, or I may confuse you all to death—but I will let on that it is actually a kimono obi (that's the tie around the midsection of a kimono) that belonged to that Rai lady who was mentioned… It's a work in progress. Meh. Shinsengumi…Choshu… I think I'm turning Japanese; I'm getting into that story so much. (But…GO SHINSENGUMI!! heartOkitaSoujiheart)

…Oh, I'll apologize for bringing her name up at all… Sorry.

It was actually kind of hard remembering to give Ronin slurred speech. I mean, I've never written him drunk before, because he's supposed to be someone who can handle massive amounts of alcohol…

One more thing! I haven't replied to reviewers personally in a long time… Sorry again. I promise to this chapter. Promise!!

(Oh! And Indoor Field Hockey starts tomorrow… looks at clock Well, later today! Yeah!)


	10. Chapter 10: Visitor

"This is swordsmanship?"

"This, my dear Wistful Eyes, is meditation, which links to swordsmanship."

…

"And how long do we do this, master?"

Impatient golden eyes pulled themselves open slightly and turned on Toklata's own befuddled turquoise ones. "Until my hangover is gone, Wistful Eyes," he snapped sarcastically. After thinking for a moment, he realized that that really could work out, and praised himself for choosing that day in particular to start meditation practices, without even thinking a bit about the throbbing in his head, something he had been spared from for quite a while. "My, even my subconscious is genius."

The pair was sitting, cross-legged, beneath a thundering, pounding waterfall in one of the many caverns, quietly doing what Ronin referred to as "meditation," and what Toklata referred to as "absolutely nothing."

"Hmmm," she said softly, wiggling slightly. "How long—"

"The purpose of meditation is to cleanse one's soul, which one cannot do with so much noise present. In short, don't speak, you idiot."

"Yes, master."

"I said _don't speak_."

"Understood, master."

"Don't be a smartass or I'll make you do sword repetitions instead."

She held her tongue this time, and a rested smile came over his lips. However, it fell soon after, as the area behind his ears gave an awful, head-splitting throb. He roughly drew in a breath and placed a hand on his forehead numbly, musing to himself.

_So…Sakura said that I was drunk. Which does explain a lot of things, but gods…I must have consumed half of the mountain's supply of alcohol to not only be so utterly gone that I couldn't remember a thing, but also to have this pounding headache. Damn it, I haven't had a hangover in a long time…_

He spared a glance towards Toklata. She was staring, wide-eyed, back at him curiously. Their gaze met, and she let out a small gasp, swiftly pulling her eyes closed again, worried over being caught out of a meditative state. A few moments passed, then she spared another glance at him out of the corner of her left eye.

Ronin smiled and sighed, "Would this be easier for you if I gave you something more specific to think about, Tokie?"

"All right. Like what?"

He considered. Meditation was a calming exercise used for relaxation and soul-purification, neither of which the girl sitting next to him needed.

Loss, death, killing… They all mean nothing to her. I'd prefer to keep it that way, but…

"Think about your future."

_She will be a great swordsman someday._

"Yes." She closed her eyes.

--

After another hour or so of their _relaxation_, Toklata began growing restless, and Ronin sighed and proclaimed that they were through with that. His head had been numbed enough from the water's cool, vicious current at that point so that he felt that he could teach the girl something without strangling her halfway through the lesson.

So now he stood next to the thundering cascade of water, Toklata sitting scrunched-up at his feet, listening intently to him after a few punishment threats he had made. (As if she would sit still on her own.)

"Now, remember the other day, when I started telling you about something called battojutsu?"

A nod.

"We'll continue that lesson today—and _today_, we will get somewhere with it. Battojutsu is the art of drawing the sword from the sheath. You draw, strike, and return the sword to its sheath in a single motion. I'm really no good at it—it's way too elegant for me—but you have a lower center of gravity and a lot of speed, so you'll probably take it better. Stand up, and I'll show you the typical stance."

She did just that, picking herself up off of the ground and examining the pose that Ronin had simply fallen into. It wasn't a relaxed position, but the way he just adopted it made it look simple. And it really did look far too graceful for him.

Ronin's body was twisted to the side, right foot stretched forward, out in front of his body, and the left foot back behind him. Both legs were bent, keeping him lower to the ground than usual, and he was balancing lightly on the toes of his feet. His right hand was hovering expectantly at his waist-level, just above his katana's handle, but off at a slight angle, rough fingers in a held position ready to grasp the sword. His left was placed around the part of the sheath were it and the sword handle's hand guard met, and his thumb and forefinger were held right on the guard, ready to snap the sword from its sheath.

She attempted it, and found, of course, that it wasn't as easy as her mentor made it seem. He pulled out of the position and examined her crudely mimicked one, giving an annoyed sigh almost immediately.

She looked up at him sorrowfully. "Is it that bad?"

"Actually, it's not completely horrible…for a first attempt," he growled, massaging his temples. "But…you don't have a sword, do you?"

"It broke," she reminded him testily.

"Well a wooden sword wouldn't work for this anyway. We'll need you to get a real one."

"Now?"

"Yes, _now_. I suppose the only way I'll be able to get an actual katana is if I hunt Sakura down and beg to use something from her collection… Damn. Well, we should go find her, I suppose…"

"Could I stay here and train while you go look for her?"

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"I feel like we're missing a lot of training here," she admitted nervously. "I could do something."

He looked her over. She seemed sincere…but there was still the worry that someone might find her, and if he wasn't there to protect her, something could happen. Of course, he wasn't about to admit this out loud, but it was an unsettling thought all the same.

For some reason, I've been thinking a lot about my losses today. I'll have to have another drink tonight. Not as much, though…

Then, there was the nagging part of him saying that he should have a little faith in his student. If someone were to come along, she would be able to hold them off long enough to get enough time to run away, right? She was that good, at least…

And who would be wandering around the caverns anyway? Who would want to attack her should they find her?

Shakily, he agreed to let her stay. "But no slacking off. I want you to do a few strokes, and practice that stance. Careful, though, it's no good if you practice it wrong. If I can't find Sakura within half an hour, I'll just come back and we'll improvise."

"Couldn't I just use your sword to practice, then?"

"I'd like to spar, or something close to it," he explained, heading for the cavern's entrance. "We can't fight with one sword, handing it back and fourth. I'll be back before you know it, so behave yourself."

"Yes, sir."

--

She had just rounded off ninety strokes when Ronin made his way back to the cavern, holding something roughly resembling a sword wrapped in layers of cloth. (And it was.)

"Nobody was here, right?" he inquired, checking her over from his distance for blood or bruises.

"Just me," Toklata confirmed, smiling.

He sighed. "Good. Now…apparently, this katana was made by some great sword smith back in the Warring States Era, et cetera, et cetera, so we'll go easy with it out of fear of bringing Sakura down on our heads," he explained. "I'll use it, and you can keep that old thing, so it doesn't get beat up." He unwrapped it from the protective cloth, revealing a gorgeous curved katana with white lacing around the handle rather than the typical black.

"Are you sure? What if this one breaks _your_ sword?"

Ronin looked over the beaten, dull, and cracked sword held limply in Toklata's hands with a snort. "I'm starting to think that that thing is impossible to break. It's as stubborn as its first owner." He quietly watched over it for a few more seconds, and then snapped out of his daze. "Do you remember that stance?"

She nodded, falling lightly to the toes of her feet.

"Not bad. But…" he looked her over carefully, not physically moving her this time, but informing her lightly where to move. Things like, "Shift your right foot back a bit further, or you're going to end up doing a split," or, "Your limbs are pathetically tiny. Keep your hand closer to the sword." Encouraging things.

Once he was finally perfectly satisfied, and her limbs were beginning to fall asleep, he took the borrowed sword and mimicked the pose. "Taking a stance doesn't secure victory, so we'll work on the striking part of battojutsu as well before we go and eat for today. Typically, in this style of sword, you'll step forward with your right foot as you draw your sword, because the sheath is worn on your left side, and you'd slash your own leg open if you tried to step forward with the left."

He prepared to demonstrate, stepping away from her, and began the lunge, slowing it down a bit so that she could observe what was going on. But as he finished, and began to re-sheath Sakura's sword, a quick bolt of pain shot up his right arm, through his shoulders. He grimaced and groaned slightly, leaning over a bit.

"Master…?"

"That was nothing," he pressed stubbornly, straightening up and taking the stance again, closer to one of the cavern walls. "When used accurately, at full speed—"

He unsheathed it and swung at the wall, expecting to cut into the stone and impress his student, but it bounced sharply off of the rocky wall as it hit. Ronin released it as the vibrations hit his wrist, tearing at it with an awful pain. The katana stuck weakly into the ground as he clutched at his pulsing right wrist with his left. "Damn it…"

Toklata had run over to his side, and was examining him with wide, worry-filled eyes. "What happened?"

"I…I guess that there wasn't enough power in the swing… That's all. Don't worry yoursel—" There was the sound of a sharp intake of breath as his earlier migraine suddenly returned with a vengeance.

"Maybe we should stop…"

Ronin faced her, smiling grimly. "You actually volunteered to do more work than you had to today…I know you don't want to stop right in the middle of this."

"Yes I do," she lied.

"Tokie…"

"Are you sick, master?" she inquired sadly.

He blinked, but quickly turned the situation to his advantage, smiling warmly. "Yes, actually. You're right. And I just need a little more sleep that I have been getting, and then I'll be better. So we'll compromise. How about we drag Sakura down here to train you while I get some rest?"

"…You promise you'll sleep?"

Internally, he laughed slightly. How nice of someone to care about him again. "I do. Sakura's no swordsman, but I suppose this'll do both of us well."

Toklata nodded slowly. "…Okay. But I don't want to catch you out of bed, master," she said sternly, quite serious.

"Okay, okay. Who said you could boss me around anyway, huh? You'll get it when I'm better."

"Sleep in my hammock; it's more comfortable. Okay?"

--

They found Sakura quickly, as she usually stood out. Toklata explained everything, and with a few looks from Ronin, the ex-geisha easily understood it all. He returned her sword, wished her luck with training the brat, and headed off to his room, not before grabbing some alcohol-to-go for the trip there.

The halls and tunnels leading there were eerily quiet, as it was really only the middle of the night, and nearly everyone was still hustling about doing manly vampire things. …While he headed to his room to sleep off a fake cold. Not too bad, really. But the fact that he had given in to the pain—and Toklata's pleading eyes—so easily irked him a bit.

The joint pain had disappeared, but his head was still throbbing dully. He took a sip from the jug at his side, not knowing whether it would numb the pain or make it worse, and really not caring either.

"Dammit, the humiliation alone will be the end of me."

He rounded the corner to his room. A tiny woman, no more than five feet and one-hundred pounds, sat up in Toklata's small hammock, humming lightly and examining her nails. She was clad in what had once been her favorite outfit: a very long, light blue gi with white triangles bordering the tips of its sleeves, tied at her midsection with a light brown strip of cloth, and a long, baggy pair of purple split-toed socks covered by old wooden sandals. Furthermore, the tattoo on her uncovered left thigh, the symbol for "truth," was right where he remembered it to be, and her messy hair, tied sloppily in a low ponytail, was still even longer than her actual body.

She looked up, green eyes flashing cleverly.

"Great, now I'm hallucinating," he growled.

A tight frown fell over a slightly transparent Jaden Takoda's face as she crossed her arms over her slightly transparent chest. "Little Ro, You insufferable moron. Don't call it a hallucination, call it heavenly guidance."

--

A/N- Since when have ghosts and vampires mixed? Since I wanted to introduce Jaden, dammit!

Seriously, though, I don't know if you guys'll like it or not, but Jaden is just such a fun character to write, and she's really only had inserts of her name, so I wanted to give her a part. And Sakura doesn't seem to be inclined to whip Ronin into shape at the moment, so we'll have her so it. Um…I don't know what else to say about that. If you really don't like the ghost thing, just stick with Ronin's idea of it being a hallucination…I guess…

Second. I really don't know a thing about battojutsu. Writing all of that stuff, I was staring at a Rurouni Kenshin manga and an article online. I hope you can understand it without needing to see the picture…

Oh, yes. Happy New Years! –Throws confetti-


	11. Chapter 11: Of Emotions and Strength

A/N-Thought I'd put this up here this time, mostly for a little warning. The rating comes up in this chapter for some foul language, mostly on the part of our "dearly departed fox-lady." I hope it doesn't bug anyone too much. I really think that cursing is a really foul habit to have myself, but there are some really strong emotions ahead, so I figured that it was appropriate enough.

--

"Great, now I'm hallucinating," Ronin growled, bringing a hand to his forehead.

"Little Ro, You insufferable moron. Don't call it a hallucination, call it heavenly guidance," his long-dead mentor snapped back, her small mouth curving into a frown.

"Whatever the hell you are, could you not call me 'Little Ro?' "

"I'm a ghost, stupid!"

"Well don't call me little! Dammit, woman, I've been taller than you since I was ten years old!"

Her lips curled mischievously. "Why are you arguing with a hallucination?"

He sighed, walking over to the hammock and placing a hand through Jaden's transparent head. Chills claimed and cooled his hand. Internally, he flinched, but he kept calm on the outside, sighing, "Sorry, I was under the impression that I was speaking to a spirit. Considering you've just admitted that you're only posing as one, I'm going to ignore you." He pulled his hand away and found his way to his usual place against the wall, intending to keep his promise to Toklata. He let his head droop and his body relax. There was silence for a few moments, and he was tempted to look up and see if his old mentor was gone, but she beat him to it.

"How wise of you, Little Ro. I mean, a hallucination posing as a ghost could never help you with any life problems you might be having, right?"

He glanced up at her, slightly curious. "What is it that you want? I promised someone that I would get some rest, so don't just hang around if you don't have anything to say."

"You promised _someone_?" she repeated, rolling her eyes. "You think I don't know about the girl, and how you're terrified that something is going to happen to her, and how you're resorting to the comfort of massive amounts of alcohol to make everything better?"

"I learned from you, remember? Besides, it was only last night."

Her playful smile disappeared. "How can you be so worried, and yet act so completely uncaring at the same time? Idiot, I hate you."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he snarled, thinking about throwing something at her, but then realizing how utterly worthless that it would prove to be.

There was a pause between them, as they both stared indignantly and unflinchingly at the other.

"Do you remember how old you were before I would let you even touch a sword?" she asked finally, in an unusually quiet voice, not tearing her gaze away.

He dropped his head and stared blankly at the rocky floor. It was very clear to him now where this conversation was heading.

"Do you?"

"Seventeen," he answered soberly, through gritted teeth. "For more than seven years, you didn't teach me a thing."

"Nonsense," she snorted, waving a slim hand dismissively at him. "In your younger years, I taught you plenty. It just wasn't what you wanted to be taught."

That was true enough. The day he had turned seventeen (according to Jaden, anyway, as he hadn't been keeping track), she had thrust an old katana into his hand and went about teaching him how to hold it, and everything else that came with being a swordsman. But until that day, she had taught him nothing other than how to make and serve tea, how to use herbs, how to sense his surroundings, and the samurai's code.

"And I made you wait so long because…?"

Ashamed silence. She answered for him.

"Because when you let a child pick up a sword, and introduce to them bloodshed and killing too soon, they grow up either to face heartbreak, or to become completely unstable!"

"Unstable…?"

She nodded solemnly. "I've seen it far too much from my time under the Shogun. It's up to you to keep her from turning into a little demon now."

Ronin scowled, raising his eyes to meet hers again. "You say you know the girl, but do you really? How could something like her ever turn into something worthy of that title?!" he barked, standing up with clenched fists. "Have you_ heard _any of the idealistic naivety that she spouts? Dammit, here I was thinking that you were here to help me or something--"

"I am, I am!" she insisted irritably. "You're just so stubborn and stuck on yourself!" She sighed exasperatedly, clapping a pale hand to her forehead with a little more force than necessary, as it passed through it, into some place further into her head. "You're killing me, Ro!"

Ronin raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Oh, right. Never mind."

He managed a light smirk at her slip-up. If there were anyone who could be dead for over fifty years and not even have the fact planted in their head firmly enough to remember it all the time, it certainly would be Jaden Takoda.

She was no different than how he remembered her, not a hair out of place, and apparently death hadn't softened her edges or made her any less snappish or impatient. Her grand height still stood below his chest, and her green eyes still glowed with a fox-like deviousness and a wicked, dirty sense of humor. Her "womanly figure" was still in competition with a ten-year-old boy's, and she certainly wasn't any more ladylike, judging by her current sitting position, legs outspread lazily, gi falling down one shoulder. (Sighing to himself, he made a mental note to discourage Toklata from any such positions when she got older.)

Despite what Jaden was warning about his own assistant, she was there as the exact opposite. And it was reassuring to think that there really were some things; no: some people, who would never change, no matter what life (or the afterlife) threw at them.

At his slight chuckle, Jaden bristled.

"What's so funny, Ro?" she demanded sharply, apparently insulted. "I was trying to speak seriously, and here you are laughing at me!"

"You're just like I remember you, that's all," he explained, with the slightest hint of fondness and admiration in his voice. He didn't bother trying to hide it. "Hot-tempered, always stuck on your way of life…"

She blinked, and then gave a coy smile, feigning exasperation by shaking her head as if she were scolding him. "You've changed, though," she observed, pulling her ponytail from its tie and starting to redo it. Ronin shot her a curiously insulted look, and her small mouth slid into something that was much more obviously teasing. "Don't pout at me, boy; not all change is bad!"

"Oh, so you're complimenting me now?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, if you'll shut up and let me!" she snapped, launching a punch at his face. Much to her dismay, her fist phased through his head, causing him nothing more than mild discomfort. Scowling, she settled on crossing her arms and poking her tongue out at him from over her as she dismally floated back to Toklata's hammock, muttering darkly. "Ready to listen, you bastard?" she growled as she found her perch again, glaring daggers at her former student.

"Go ahead."

Jaden waited a few seconds for some other reply, something sarcastic, but Ronin had chosen not to try her, as he was sure that, even dead, she probably could still think of something nasty as punishment for interrupting her. Seeing this, she continued, wearing her fox-smile and leaning back into a relaxed position, closing her eyes.

"You've become much softer, Ro."

She felt something, probably something sharp, pass through her head, and then heard it embed itself in the wall behind her. She pulled open her bright green eyes and faked a sad, hurt expression at her assistant's fuming features.

"Aw, did I insult you?"

"Yes, dammit, you whore!"

"Stop being such a Buddha-damned pussy!"

"Where do dead people learn that kind of language?! And stop pretending to be a Buddhist; you're not kind enough!"

"Why do you think that showing emotion is weak?!" she demanded suddenly, leaving him in silence. She continued, her sly features twisted into raw rage, voice rising with every sentence. "Do you think _I'm_ weak because I wear my mood on my sleeve?! Do you think that your own student is weak because she would cry at death?! Fucking coward! If I wasn't translucent, I'd beat your sorry ass right now, dammit!"

"I know that," he murmured, head held down again.

Jaden heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Oh, so now you're going to be all sulky, huh? I gave you a compliment, and now you've almost forced me to take it back. Will you hear me out, hun, or do I have to leave now?"

Ronin took a deep, hitching breath to steady himself against his master's cruel words.

_But then, what did I expect from her? _He questioned, almost smiling again. Without meeting her gaze, he mumbled, "Go on."

"If you interrupt, I'm leaving. I'm done toying until I get this out, understand?"

"Yes."

He felt her eyes upon him for a few brief moments, before she tore them away to look elsewhere, and explained in a much softer tone, "I said that you've gotten softer. You took it to mean that I think you're becoming weaker, but if that was the case, I would've just said that. What I meant was… If its any consolation, I think that you're right to treat the girl the way you do. I mean, that you don't always punish her, and you tell her that you care about her. Even if she is a vampire, I think that you're right to play constant guardian, and to tuck her in, and to worry over her, because that's really what she needs. I thought that maybe…" A smile split her face again, but it was a sour, sick grin. "Maybe then, she'd turn out better off than the both of us, you know?"

Finally, Ronin looked up. "Master…"

"But you're so hopeless. You'll probably turn all stony again because you thought I was insulting you, right?"

"N-no! Master, I—"

She clapped her hands together happily, and a real grin claimed her sharp features. "Great! It's a promise, then! And keep in mind…showing emotion isn't necessarily the same as showing weakness, Ro"

"I understand that," he sighed sadly. "Somewhere, I've always understood that. It's just that…just that, whenever I care about someone…and I'm off-guard enough with them to show it…they always get taken away from me. And I worry…"

"I know, I know," she consoled, in an attempt at a soothing voice. "But without something to protect, a swordsman is no different from a common murderer, so it's probably better off this way. I think…I'm thinking that Buddha, or the vampire gods, or _someone_ high up there knows that, and they've sent you another chance with this girl. And then they sent me to kick you in the ass and remind you to take better care of this one, and say 'keep up the good work, Ro' and all that other stuff."

"Yeah…that's nice to think, right?"

"Exactly!"

He smiled—her sudden mood swings were amazing, and they could be irritating, but Jaden's spontaneous personality had been very well missed. Ronin had always looked up to her, simply for always seeming "strong" in his eyes. His strength was different, but she was just an amazing woman, even if he never let on that he thought that way. They had always fought, but things could turn better within moments. Or, on one occasion, years.

But it had always worked out.

"Master?" he ventured, as her gaze turned satisfied.

"What, brat?"

"Have you accomplished your mission, Fox?"

"I would say so, Little Ro. I guess I'll go back to wherever I was now… Ah, one more thing. Take better care of my katana! I used it when I was in the Shinsengumi, so it could be sitting in a museum instead right now! Make yourself worthy of it!"

He scowled disgustedly, but the corners of his mouth nearly tugged themselves into a smirk. "Urgh. You're such a snob, coming, and then leaving right away."

Understanding, Jaden's small lips curled wickedly, and her eyes narrowed, as she pressed two fingers to her mouth mischievously. "Don't insult me," she teased. "Just to prove to you what a rose I am, I'll stay longer and talk with you."

"I…I'd like that a lot…"

Happy silence.

"…Fox."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT, DAMN YOU!"

--

A/N-(Again) Whoo. I had some trouble with this one, and every time I sat down to write, I got distracted... It's actually hard to write Jaden's character when she doesn't have any Choshu people to carve up…

The nicknames… "Fox" kind of makes it seem like Ronin is calling Jaden pretty or trying to hit on her, (-.-) but its actually some Japanese folklore in the works. A kitsune is a fox demon who disguises itself as a human, usually a beautiful woman, to play tricks on unsuspecting humans. In that effect, calling a woman a kitsune suggests that they're deceptive, sneaky, and possibly unfaithful to their husband or downright slutty. Jaden isn't designed to really be pretty, and she's quite taken to wearing men's clothes, but her personality is a dead match, thus the name. Then, the fact that I'm trying to keep as much Japanese dialogue out of this as possible, and it got translated simply to "Fox."

"Little Ro" is another translation, from "Ro-chan," and it draws from the odd fact that Jaden, the master, is less than five feet and one-hundred pounds, while Ronin, her idiot student, is over six feet. She finds it very funny, but Ronin…well, with Ronin, not so much…


	12. Intermission: Roden to the Resuce

A/N-Please Read!-Well, yes, I realize how long it's been. And I've decided to put this on hiatus until I can sort everything all out. Not just what's happening in the story, but all the crap going on in my life right now. I'm having a lot of trouble with the two people who I thought were my best friends, and seeing them in school usually makes me unhappy, so generally I'm in a bad mood when I come home, and then I end up biting at my family, and they fight back. What I'm trying to say is that I'm just miserable nearly all the time anymore, except maybe on weekends. (And today, cause it's our first snow day all year!)

Second is indoor field hockey. (By the way—I have to say it—on our tournament Sunday Feb. 11th, we became first place champions, and got this nice plaque!) I love it, and it makes me happy, but because I'm one of the three (four soon, because our injured comrade is getting off of her crutches tomorrow) most senior players, I'm in charge of recruiting new members and spreading news and helping the younger members. Really it's not that much, but I'm better off in outdoor hockey, so I do like to practice in my basement quite a bit. Plus, I'm getting moved up to more offensive spots, and not only am I not built for it, but I don't know them well… meh.

Well, I hope all of that is enough of an excuse, and that you'll understand. I wanted to put the next chapter up, but I just struggled with it for so long that I decided that it wouldn't be any good even if I could bring myself to finish it. Still, I felt bad for making you guys wait so long just for a message about putting this project on hold, so I scrawled down an idea that had been floating around in my brain, God only knows why. It could be better, and I'll probably go back and revise it a little later, but finishing it, I just wanted to get it up for all of you. It could be romance for Valentines Day, if you can manage to twist this into romance somehow, or it could be some comedy, if it's really that funny. Either way, enjoy.

I think the only things I have to mention are that Roden is Ronin, before he changed his name, and he's rather young here. I'd say it's set in the late 1700's, but I really only know about Japan's Bakumatsu and Meiji Era, in the late 1800s, so some stuff could be historically off. Shishou is a term I've translated to "Master" with Toklata, but it has more meaning to it than that. It's a title for the master of an art or craft, who is teaching it to a student. Anyway, here it is.

Roden to the Rescue!

Never before had little Roden been so utterly baffled by his shishou. Usually, she was such a blunt, straightforward woman.

But he just couldn't make any sense of this strange..._fluttering_ thing that she was doing with her eyelashes, even less so when he considered that she seemed to be aiming this odd show at the samurai sitting next to her.

He reconsidered: "sitting next to her" was too mild. She was practically on his lap. And then, he scowled at what a waste of time she had gone through to put on a kimono and do up her hair, as the samurai had long since pulled her hair ribbon out, and his hand was perched at her bare knee and slowly climbing, pushing open the robelike kimono as it made its journey. If she was trying to look slightly more presentable by having Sakura stuff her into one of those constricting things, it certainly hadn't been worth it, as she was showing more skin at that point than she would have been showing in her usual loose-fitting attire.

This whole event took place about once a month: Jaden would pretty herself up with Sakura's help, who scolded her the entire time as she put on her makeup and tied her kimono obi; she would brush the scolding away without even batting an eye and take off to a man's home, or a room at an inn he was staying at, and then start with the process of batting her eyes and laughing discreetly and drinking lots of sake. Lots. Very rarely did she visit the same man more than once.

And before going inside, she always reminded him--irritably--that he was old enough now so that he didn't have to follow her everywhere, but he became so curious about why she was doing all of this that he put on a show of being clingy and was able to go in and observe her and her friend for a while.

For a while.

Because either she or the man whose lap and home she invaded shooed him off before much happened, so he never had a chance to find out what all of the fuss was about. What was worse was that when they waved him away, he was assigned chores, like filling the bath or collecting firewood or some other stupid thing to that effect, which resulted in making him dislike these male friends of his shishou's very much.

He turned his attention back to the pair, and was surprised to see that the man's hand had progressed to Jaden's upper thigh, which seemed to him to be bordering on inappropriate. Apparently they had completely forgotten about him on this particular night, as he had never been able to watch them for so long without being kicked out. He made up his mind to keep it that way, and to finally find out what Jaden and the men were really doing.

All of these male friends that she went to visit were rather rough looking, they all carried swords, and they seemed to handle her a little roughly for her size. Though she was tough herself, and they probably never be able to hurt her, they certainly didn't know that, and seemed sometimes to be trying for it. It seemed possible that his label of "samurai" would more appropriately be "bandit" or even "slave trader," but he couldn't bring himself to believe that his shishou would associate herself with those kind of men after everything she'd been through all of her life, and settled on the former most term because of the katana they all had strapped to their hip. Their homes were usually just as shabby as their manners, and this one--a one-room cabin--had a damp smell to it to match the dark blotches of _something_ in the darkest corners of the room. It was very dimly-lit as well, with only a few dusty Chinese lanterns hung around in several places to cast a rather eerie glow over everything. The sun had set several hours before, but even if it were still high in the sky, he doubted that any light would reach them through the hut's only window, placed towards the back of the room. There was a single futon rolled out directly under the window (the same futon Jaden and the man were sharing at that moment, as she batted her eyes and he pushed cup after cup of sake into her hands), a pit for a fire in the center of the room, and a table off to one side with some sake jugs and sacks of rice on it, but otherwise it was very plain, and seemed nearly uninhabited.

It was hardly a romantic setting, but still, that was what Jaden seemed to come for. But still, he wondered, what exactly did they_ do_...?  
A strangled squeaking noise came out of his throat when he turned his attention back to his mentor and the man, as his hand was now _far_ past inappropriate; groping around inside of Jaden's kimono somewhere around her stomach, possibly lower, and she was starting to lean backwards onto the man's futon in a way that made him very nervous. In fact, the kimono was very much in danger of drooping right down her shoulders and slipping from around her body. He was about to warn her, thinking that he would have to save her dignity from the man's eyes, but at his startled gasp-choke, the pair noted his prescreens again.

"Ro-chan, go...run to town and buy some fish or something," Jaden drawled, never tearing her eyes away from the man's, and not bothering to pull herself back into a sitting position or fix her slipping kimono. He brought his unoccupied hand to caress her cheek, then tore his gaze away from her to give poor Roden a sidelong, rather mocking look through his black bangs, smirking all the while.

His smirk left the boy completely unsettled, but he backed out of the room grudgingly all the same, more from Jaden's request than any intimidation the man inspired in him. Admittedly, though, he was a bit worried about leaving his shishou in the "samurai's" hands; she seemed to have such awful taste in men, and she could be such a self-willed mule sometimes that she tended to throw herself right into trouble's path.

But he still needed to know what they were doing.

Disobeying his shishou was both stupid and tempting, and something he had attempted only a few times before. ...And always regretted for weeks after. But the latter far outweighed the former in his mind, at least at that particular moment, and he decided that he would just have to bear up against the consequences for spying to get the information he wanted.

That was, if he got caught.

And, honestly, he really thought that he might be able to get away with it if he put his mind to work. He expected that Jaden and her friend would probably have full attention on the task at hand, whatever it was, so perhaps if he were very quiet, he would be able to slip in and out...or maybe stand by a window and steal a few peeks inside, without drawing their attention.

As he thought about it more, this plan became easier and easier to complete, and he scolded himself for not thinking of such a thing earlier, with it's genius simplicity.

While thinking this over, he had been perched in a leafless tree, the cold air tugging at hi hair, but after making this decision he hopped down and quietly began tiptoeing lightly around to its back side, where he had noticed the narrow, uncovered window while examining the house earlier. It stuck him as odd that the window was completely open, without even a few wooden pillars dividing it into separate sections or a paper screen to cover it from the bugs, but he shook it off dismally when he realized how high up the thing was. Even with his lanky frame, the bottom of it just touched his forehead while he was on his tiptoes, and he had expected to observe, so he set off to search around the yard for something to prop himself up on.

After nearly ten minutes of searching blindly around the barren yard, he stumbled into a worn bucket, probably used to fetch water from a nearby stream. Its edges were worn and uneven, but he figured that he would be able to keep his balance well enough to take a quick look inside of the hut if he plopped it upside down near the window and perched on its bottom. And that turned out to be exactly what he did do

It wobbled from one side to another as he stepped on it and tried to find a steady position, shifting his weight back and fourth, but finally settled after some quiet experimenting. He ended up leaning his head against the wood just below the window, deciding to carefully listen fist, and check in when he was sure the two were occupied. Straining his ears, he concentrated on their hushed conversation.

The first thing he heard was Jaden sighing contentedly. "Mmmm, Koichi-san," she purred, sounding rather short of breath. "You don't look it...but you're a very gentle man, ne?"

"Well, is that what you want?" he asked huskily, smugly. Jaden moaned, though not as if she were exasperated with this answer, but more like the way Roden would expect her to react to trying some heavenly western sweets, if he could ever convince her that they weren't poisonous to those from the east.

"You didn't answer my question," the man, Koichi-san, he supposed, pointed out.

Jaden laughed, but this laugh was a much more subdued, half-hearted version of her usual kitsune's snicker. In fact, she sounded rather conquered. Roden began to worry, and pressed his ear harder against the wood.

There were only the noises of rustling sheets and heavy breathing for a long while, and then Jaden suddenly cried out sharply, as if she had been stabbed. Roden gasped and shot upwards to see what was happening, cursing himself for not paying attention to their conversation while he had still been in the hut, as he was now sure that his shishou was the subject of some horrid torture, for some reason or another.

_Perhaps he's half-vampaneze! Shishou! _He thought desperately as he quickly pulled himself upwards to look into the room.

Too quickly. The bucket beneath him shifted to one side, and he fell. But rather than falling backwards onto his behind, he pitched forward. Into the uncovered window.

Next thing he knew, he was lying dazed on the wooden floor, staring up at Jaden and Koichi. The latter was looking back at him with an equally bewildered expression, but Jaden was wearing a weird, knowing smile, though he could tell that she was having trouble keeping it away from turning into an angry snarl as her lips twitched and teeth occasionally flashed. So while they were still relatively in shock, Roden drunk up the scene before him frantically.

It didn't really look much to him like torture, though he nearly died of a nosebleed when he noticed Jaden's bare limbs poking out from under a blanket, and then realized with huge shock that under this blanket, which was covering all of the important things, she was utterly kimono-and-undergarment-less. Koichi wasn't wearing too much either, and the shock of having a child plummet through his window had left him so surprised that he hadn't bothered to take his hands off of the small woman, leaving him in an even less appropriate position than he had been earlier.

Then Koichi regained focus and glared at the boy harshly for interrupting them, and Roden glared just as nastily back, for putting his shishou in such a position. They remained this way for quite a while, before Jaden interrupted their match with loud, side-splitting laughter, doubling over just enough so that the blanket still left her relatively covered. (Both men later went back and wondered if she had sprouted kitsune's ears and a bushy tail, but could never quite recall.)

"Oh, Ro-chan, you should have stayed at the okiya with Sakura!" she happily wailed, turning to rest her head on Koichi's shoulder. "Now I suppose I'll have a few lessons to teach soon, ne?" She stood up, holding the blanket in place and wrapping it around herself in a sort of makeshift wardrobe, then sauntering to the table to collect up her kimono and hair ornaments. "Mou, Koichi-san, I suppose I'm just going to have to leave you tonight. But I wonder...may I come back?"

Koichi smiled devilishly as she leaned at the door, and laughed. Apparently, this was enough of an answer, as Jaden smirked back and opened the plain shoji, stepping out into the night with a very confused, startled Roden in tow.

"Shishou, what was that all about?!" he demanded, after they were a good ways into a thick forest.

"I could ask you the same thing," she snorted, watching for a tree that she could duck behind to change back into her kimono, as to not give poor Sakura a heart attack. "So what _was_ that about?!"

"Don't scream at me! I thought you were getting a katana stuck into you or something!"

She stopped and pressed her lips together, but they were wiggling around violently, threatening to break open into a wide grin, which they did, several seconds later, as she proclaimed, "I was, in a sense!" and trotted off, howling with laughter.

Roden watched her for a moment, and then took off after her, demanding an explanation. She promised to explain once they had settled down for the night.

(And she did.)

She stayed with Koichi for a long time.

-End-


	13. Chapter 12: Anticipation

Spiteful, hate-rimmed green eyes glared, boring a hole into Ronin's forehead as he pulled his bottle of alcohol to his lips and began taking measured sips, savoring the taste, and making quite a spectacle out of it. Finally feeling Jaden's hateful gaze upon him, he glanced upwards, barely containing a smirk as he noted the way her eyes moved slowly to the alcohol.

"It's your fault," he scolded simply. "After the Bakumatsu, I got into the habit of only drinking fresh blood and water, but you insisted on reintroducing me to our old friend here, if memory serves correct. In that sense, you are the very root of any drinking problems I have now or develop in the future."

"Oh, I wish I could just taste it," she moaned, squirming on her perch, ignoring his last sentence. "It's been way too long, you know?"

"Sorry. I don't."

She resumed her glaring briefly, before realizing that it would do nothing and throwing out her arms, yawning loudly. "Well now, Little Ro, you're supposed to be getting some sleep, am I right? Lying to your assistant isn't a good habit to have."

He quirked a brow skeptically, choking out a half-laugh. "Oh, you _do_ know everything now, don't you? I forgot. So I guess that you know about this…this whole wearing-down-of-my-body thing, huh?"

She nodded sadly and, although he was prepared for her to poke fun at him for it, nothing rude came. Just, "You should listen to Sakura's advice about that."

There was grim silence, but it lasted mere moments, as Jaden broke out with a smile soon afterwards. "So! How is Sakura, anyway?!"

--

Through a short period filled with quite a bit of stories and insults, Jaden and her former student were somehow able to get out everything they had wanted to say to each other, and were left sitting in peaceful silence.

The soft quiet around them made it that much easier to hear Toklata fast approaching when she came, singing loudly.

"I guess you'll be taking your leave now," Ronin sighed to Jaden as the girl's voice reached a rather high, rather unstable note.

"I guess so," she agreed distractedly.

…

"So are you gonna go, then?"

Her shoulders drooped, but she barely managed to keep the teasing tone from her voice. "You're not gonna get all mushy and sentimental on me?"

"It was nice seeing you. Goodbye… And good riddance," he added thoughtfully. "That good enough?"

Despite the remark, she smiled warmly, shaking her head. "I hope that you were listening to what I said, you stubborn mule. Oh! One more thing! Sakura just set you up for a little meeting with the Princes tomorrow!"

"Damn her!"

Jaden's smile turned fox-like, and she gave a wicked, pitying laugh before beginning to slowly fade away from her feet up. Her small legs went, and then her thighs and the "truth" tattoo, then the bottom of her Wolf's gi; its tie; the top of it. And just before her messy hair and features went, she barked out something like, "Brat…I guess I just might miss you."

And then she was completely gone.

"Fox…" Ronin sighed, blankly smiling where his old master 's form had just been. "…Whether as a hallucination, or as a ghost…it really was…really, really nice to see you."

--

He was given a grand time of three seconds to quickly relax his body and close his eyes in false sleep, before Toklata swerved into the room and jumped on top of him.

"Master!" she sang, as he pulled his eyes open and twisted his face into a scowl. "Um… Oh! I shouldn't be jumping on you, should I? Sorry…" She pulled herself off of him and sheepishly settled by his side.

Sakura found her way into their room soon after, carrying their training supplies in a single arm. Apparently, she hadn't taken to dashing there as Toklata had, but she had still made it a point to keep the girl within sight. "Were you talking to someone?" she asked Ronin as she stepped inside, slowly looking around the room for other signs of life.

He feigned a concerned look. "No. I was sleeping, before this little brat here attacked me. You're not turning senile on me, are you?"

"Hmm…I could have sworn that I heard… I mean, it sounded like…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Must just be wishful thinking," she mumbled. "It's around the time of year of her death, after all…" She gained a quietly thoughtful look, but soon straightened up, clapping her hands together. "Anyway, we got a lot done today! I'm really no good at all with a katana, so for the most part we just sparred, and she stayed out of reach quite well. The real sword seemed to slow her down a bit, so I'm going work on strength training with her too, until you're feeling better."

"Which will be sooner than planned."

"But master, you promised!" Toklata whined, pulling at his wrist.

"I promised that I would sleep. I didn't say anything about how long. And anyway—" he cupped her cheek in his palm—"you're my top priority, annoying as it is… I do agree that you need some muscle toning, though, and I'll leave that to Sakura."

Toklata giggled, looking Sakura over with Ronin. He hissed playfully into her ear, "Don't laugh! Really, have you ever seen her arms under that kimono?! She'd beat you black and blue if she wanted to!"

The woman shot him a stern glance, but he brushed it off and continued when he noted Toklata's skeptical stare. "Go ahead, ask her to show you her arms."

"Ro!"

He shrugged dismissively, thinking it better not to earn her anger. "So what do you two want, anyway?"

"To go to bed," Sakura said, scowling. "What did you think? It's past sunup, you know, and I'd like to get a shower and some rest."

"I'll bet you would. You two smell God-awful. Take Tokie with you."

"What happened to all that 'top priority' stuff, Ro?" she sighed, exasperated. "Take her yourself. You could use a bath as well, you know…especially since you're going to see the princes tomorrow."

_Damn,_ he growled to himself, grimacing. _So the Fox wasn't lying after all…_

"Thank you, Sakura, for tearing down my quiet life."

"I'm just looking out for you," she insisted, turning to leave. "You'll see. The longer you put this off, the angrier the princes will be, so it's best to get it over with."

Ronin sighed as she left with her usual graceful bow and quiet footsteps. "I guess you're not gonna take her, then," he muttered, not bothering with speaking up, as he was sure she still would have ignored him. "All right. See you there, and thanks again." Then, he turned to Toklata, using the wall for support and pulling himself up. For the first time since they had arrived, he noted the awful coat of dirt and sweat layering her thin form and round face, and grimaced disgustedly. "Come on, I suppose we should attempt to make you presentable. Yuck. I hadn't noticed how nasty you really are."

She smiled sheepishly after giving herself a quick once-over. Apparently, she hadn't noticed her state until then either. "Okay. So, where are the showers?"

Ronin grinned.

--

"That would be a waterfall," Toklata pointed out, motioning to the roaring flow of water that Ronin had suddenly stopped in front of.

"Yes," he agreed flatly. "It's also the showers."

After snatching towels from his bag, they had traveled through a mass of snaking tunnels, deeper and deeper into the mountain, towards the "bath," or at least that was what Ronin directed his assistant to believe. But as they walked, she was left to wonder if these "showers" were really showers, and now, found her fears confirmed as she glanced around the completely empty cavern.

She poked one of her feet into the water, but quickly drew it back from the cold with a small yelp, rubbing her other foot over it in an attempt to put an end to the numbed sensation it had taken on. Ronin sighed at the childish display and, not seeing any other way to get her clean, kicked her into the pool.

She surfaced moments later, eyes wide, gasping for air, and still managing to clutch onto herself for some nonexistent warmth. "What the hell?!" she snapped, glaring up at him as her started to shiver.

"Watch your mouth," he warned, leaning down and waggling a finger in front of her nose. "Now, you'd best strip down and wash yourself while no one else is here, unless you don't have any qualms about strangers seeing you naked."

Her face reddened, and he smiled and patted her on the head, bemused. He hadn't been quite sure if she was old enough to worry about such things, but apparently she was, and he was glad that Sakura had picked such an odd time to come down to avoid other vampires.

"Sakura's hiding out under one of these waterfalls here, so go find her. She might just rip your skin off trying to scrub you down, but that's a chance we can take to make you look like such a little _darling_ again." He frowned. "And, knowing her, I'd bet that she has some sort of flower-smelling soapy stuff as well. What a vain woman…" He trailed off, then blinked, and shooed Toklata away, hissing, "Hurry before she takes it upon herself to find us and hears me talking about her! She'll beat me…"

"What are_ you _going to do then?" the girl asked, finally seeming to be used to the cold water.

"I'm going to go clean up myself, but I'd like to get away without smelling like…well, _sakura_ blossoms, so I'll do it elsewhere," he scowled. "Now go on, while you have the privacy. Get."

She poked her tongue out at him, swimming away before he could do anything about it, to find Sakura and scrape the grime off her pale skin. Truthfully, she was also hoping for more of an explanation about this "meeting with the Princes" thing, as she was sure that it must be quite important if even her master was fussing over her looks.

She splashed gracelessly through the cold pool, clothes getting heavier and heavier as she neared the waterfall, and finally poked her head into it. Sakura, of course, was there behind it—just as Ronin had suggested—disheartedly examining the ends of her dark, wet hair and her shoulders with an expression of mingled disgust and disappointment. She stood watching the woman's upset looks without thinking of moving out of the harsh current, trying to find out what was wrong. Admittedly, she had horrible split ends, which wouldn't much bother any vampire other than her, but Toklata also noted that her shoulders seemed much wider bare than they did with a kimono covering them. Still, she looked lovely as ever through the interior mist, leaning on the damp mountain rocks and pouting effeminately.

"What's wrong Sakura?" she asked as the swift water drummed onto her skull. The older woman looked up, seeming to just notice her, and smiled warmly, pulling her out of the harsh current and into her shelter.

"So observant," she sighed. "Unfortunately, using a spear as your major weapon tends to give you broader shoulders, but it's nothing that can be fixed. Anyway, Jaden would have a fit if she saw me worrying over such things, so I'd best stop. We're here to clean you, not to moan about why I should have just been a swordswoman, so lets go to it."

Without waiting for any sort of answer, she suddenly pushed Toklata's head under the water and began scrubbing at her hair roughly. Somewhere along the line, she also somehow managed to struggle out of her heavy clothes, and eventually, was pulled back up to the water's surface as well, gasping for air and glaring at Sakura the same way she had done to Ronin.

"Ah, don't worry," she laughed. "The rest isn't quite so rough." She handed her a bar of soap, which had seemingly popped out of nowhere onto the rocks. "Here. Scrub yourself down with this and I'll tell you a bit more about what's going on tomorrow."

She did as instructed, interested in what Sakura would tell her. As it was, she was only getting more and more worried.

"Now, Ro's reason for blooding you is the best reason I could ever imagine, since you would have died otherwise," she began. "But…he still broke the rules about blooding children, and, for some reason or another, he really isn't liked very much around here, so tomorrow probably won't be fun no matter what we do to break the fall. All I can tell you is to try to be more polite than that arrogant man you call master, because I'm sure he'll act just like his usual self. Still, listen to him and agree with him, because he is ever the slick talker, and it'll be his brains that'll get you out of a hopeless situation. Got it?"

Toklata nodded silently, her soaked-flat bangs hiding her eyes, which she was sure must have been round with worry. Still, her concern must have shown elsewhere on her features, as Sakura laughed softly and pulled her hair free of its ponytail to wash it, cooing softly that she shouldn't worry over it too much.

"Ronin would beat down any army they sent after him to keep you unharmed, rest assured, and I'll be there as well, if he's not enough."

Through a mess of bubbles, she managed her usual smile, feeling somewhat reassured at Sakura's promising words, and taking comfort in the fact that if it really did come down to an _army_, the both of them really would stand up and fight for her well-being.

"But I'd protect you guys too," she promised after thinking it over. "Master says that without something worth fighting for, a swordsman is nothing but a murderer. So could I protect you two like you protect me?"

The woman chuckled, drawing a hand through Toklata's tangled hair. "That is a very reassuring thought, _o valiant samurai of mine_, but perhaps your key focus should be on keeping your mentor at least somewhat happy, meaning keeping yourself alive and safe, hm?"

"I guess."

"Good."

After a final scrubbing and dunk, Sakura proclaimed that Toklata was as clean as she would ever be, and it was about time to find Ronin and get some rest. So she gathered up her things and they swam out of the waterfall's cover, finding Ronin leaning against the cavern wall, looking impatient. He had already dressed, and had two towels—which he wordlessly tossed to them—and a change of clothes for Toklata slung over his arm. His hair was still sopping wet, however, and it was sticking to his face in a way that apparently annoyed him very much, as he kept unconsciously putting a hand to his face and trying to brush back his bangs, only to have them fall back in place.

Both girls slipped out of the water and quickly wrapped themselves up in their towels the best they could, Toklata visibly shivering. Ronin laughed and took himself off the wall, stalking over to her and handing her the spare clothes.

"Hurry and get changed, we've got quite a day tomorrow," he sighed. "We'll get in some training in the morning, but it won't be anything rough, then lunch, and then we'll be ready to face the Princes."

"M'kay," she stammered, quickly pulling on an oversized shirt and standing up to do the same with a pair of gray sweatpants.

"The Festival of the Undead is coming up, you know," Sakura added, wringing out her hair.

"Is that supposed to cheer me up?"

"It would any normal vampire. Though I suppose you really don't need that as an excuse to pick a fight or get drunk…"

He snorted. "Are you kidding me? I wouldn't dare leave Toklata to get drunk and fight, like the rest of those morons during the Festival. She'd either be pulled into fights until she's completely black and blue or simply trampled on in the rush."

"Stop, you're scaring the poor thing!"

Indeed, Toklata's eyes had grown wide with worry again as she wondered what exactly this Festival was and what part she would be expected to play in it. So far, it seemed that she would either have to cling to Ronin or be used as a punching bag (or a carpet). And that was if she survived the next day's training and meeting with the Princes. Life was becoming far too complicated for her liking, and she began to understand her master's grumpiness and longing for the way things used to be.

--

A/N-Finally! I've managed to get all of my problems sorted out to the point where they've become manageable and where I'm not snapping at people all the time. Plus, I have a nice long Easter Break without too many plans (so far), so of course I have to write! I still can't promise that the chapters will be up regularly again (Again? Were they ever?), but I do have the next few chapters set out in my head, so I'm hoping… And hopefully they'll all turn out just as long as this one.

It's a shame that Jaden couldn't have stayed longer. Maybe she'll make future cameos… Like, what if she was reincarnated into the body of a fox? … -.- On second thought, maybe I'll just keep up some Bakumatsu and Meiji Era fics starring her..


	14. Chapter 13: Stalling

As promised, they trained before meeting the Princes the next day, but it certainly wasn't the "easy day" that Ronin had mentioned the night before.

Well, in truth, it _was_ easy. But only for him. Toklata was happy that he wasn't killing himself trying to give her a decent lesson, but she just couldn't understand how he could work her so hard without even breaking a sweat himself. Not that she needed any more of a break; she could practically feel her skin growing tender again whenever they skipped practice. But she didn't want to sweat away all of the papering and scrubbing Sakura had done the night before, either, and that was what her mentor seemed intent on doing.

And since her wooden sword was never to reappear again, Sakura's antique katana seemed to be its permanent replacement, and its extra weight was tearing open nearly healed blisters. Within the first hour, her hands were slick with sweat and unknown fluids.

After four hours, they stopped for lunch (and, unknown to them at the time, an agonizing pick-up from Sakura) before heading off. Nervous, Toklata barely picked at the plate in front of her, while Ronin ended up talking more than eating, telling her how to behave, and contradicting a lot of what Sakura had told her the night before in favor of his pride.

"Don't go on repeating 'sire' like some well-trained dog," he was saying. "If anything, you're my pup, and I'll come to your rescue if need be, so don't worry. We'll get this over with and, hopefully, then we'll be able to go back to normal."

She nodded, managing to get some carrot into her stomach before Sakura appeared in the hall—lovely as ever, of course—toting the kimono that she had presented Toklata with when they had first met up outside the mountain, and a blue ribbon to match it. Expecting to be whisked away, the girl began to stand, but Sakura pushed her back down impatiently, tossing the kimono to Ronin and pulling fiercely at her hair.

"Ow-ow-ow!" she wailed, wishing that she were still feeling the pain of raw skin against a sword hilt, rather than the pain of her hair practically being ripped from her skull.

"Beauty and agony live side by side," the woman said, scowling. "So stop that whining…there, done."

Toklata had only enough time to begin wishing that she could see her agonizing hairstyle before she was hoisted from her chair and stuffed into the blue kimono. She had been wearing a clean pair of rolled-up warm up pants, and bandaging around her chest and middle. The latter, Sakura left alone, but as soon as the under robe was properly covering her, off came her pants, which she tossed viciously to Ronin. She became even redder and took notice of all of the vampires with them in the hall that had turned to stare at the scene.

"What's the rush?" Ronin asked, half-amused, half-annoyed. Somewhere in the commotion, he had slipped into a nice black robe (When he had dug it out earlier to check for rips or tears; "Yukata," he said, "Dress," Toklata said.) with a gray tie at his middle, which his sword slipped snugly into. Instead of the usual black boots, he had a pair of tidy thonged sandals made of clean straw, and his hands were covered in kenjutsu gloves that covered the top of his hand to his knuckles and part of his thumb protectively. He never used them while they sparred—he didn't exactly need such protection from Toklata, and most vampires were loathe to use armor anyway—but they looked cool, she had to admit. His hair didn't require any maintenance. It seemed to always be perfect.

"You two are going to be late at this rate."

"We're perfectly on time."

"Well, now you'll be early. Obi, please." She held out her hand to him expectantly, but he just innocently stared back at it, quirking an eyebrow skeptically.

"You never handed me an obi."

Her head lifted up slowly and grimly, as if to warn him not to joke about such things, but then realized, eyes widening, that he was serious. She clapped an exasperated hand to her forehead. Toklata too began to worry, as she knew that without the obi tied around the kimono's midsection, it would fall open constantly, and her whole outfit, including her hair, would become pointless. Her face turned even redder as she realized that she would be visiting the Princes in either an open robe vaguely resembling a kimono or her sweaty training clothes.

Sakura, however, was more optimistic. And by not giving up immediately and letting her brown eyes wander, they eventually came to settle on Ronin's black bag, slung over his shoulder.

He noticed her hungry eyes, and barked an immediate, "No." After she continued her staring, he added, pleadingly, "It's far too delicate. And it went from Rai's chest to her hips, so it would probably be long enough on Tokie for her to wear it as a dress on its own."

"Oh stop," the woman scowled, grabbing for the bag. "We'll double it. Come on, Ro, Toklata wants to look pretty."

Slowly and unhappily, pouting like a child, he handed over the bag, and out came that gorgeous strip of silver fabric. Sakura smiled, having gotten her way, and held an end in each hand, folding it in half so it wasn't quite so wide. Then she kneeled down and wrapped it around Toklata's middle, straightening the rest of the kimono first.

"Ah, look at you," she breathed fondly as she knotted the obi at the girl's back. Toklata couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, as if Sakura could say that the back of her body looked lovely, while her rear end was so dangerously close to her face, then she was sure that her front looked absolutely beautiful.

(Still, it was the most wretched, uncomfortable thing that she ever had the displeasure to wear, but she didn't mention it. And in her eyes, Sakura became even more respected, for being able to run around in—no, to _fight_ in one.)

When the older woman was done, she turned to face Ronin, smiling broadly. At first he seemed unimpressed, and she began to frown, but then he heaved a sad sigh and bent down to wrap her in his arms. "You…are the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen," he breathed into her ear, scooping her up. Then, to himself rather than to her, he whispered, "I'll protect this one. I won't let anything happen to her."

--

The Hall of Princes was located at the mountain's highest point, as Toklata found out soon enough. The trio hiked upwards through the labyrinth of tunnels, steadily going upward, until they reached a long tunnel that led to the Hall, full of green-clad guards. They had waited expectantly and silently for a few moments, as had Sakura, Toklata, and Ronin, and after earning no response from any of the three, reminded them gruffly that weapons were not allowed in the hall.

They all already knew this, of course, but the two women automatically turned to Ronin, whose sword was always present, whether he realized it or not. He looked back at both of them, then down at his sword, and seemed to be having an internal battle over whether to quibble a bit, or to just hand it over, or to take the time to run it back to the safety of his room. He thought silently for a few seconds, before seeing the futility of the first and last options and taking it from his belt, warning the guards dangerously to make sure that not a scratch be added to its already beaten-up surface, that it had belonged to a great samurai whose ghost would annoy then to no end if something happened to it. They tried to keep their uncaring nature, but he seemed to have gotten his point across, suggesting that even if the malevolent spirit of a fox-like lady-samurai didn't hurt them, he would. Then, he handed over Toklata's katana, making no fuss at all, much to the dismay of Sakura. ("…only sixteen of them left, Ro!" she hissed at him as they continued on, elbowing him in the ribs.)

Besides that, the other guards made sure they had no other weapons, and through the checking of their shoes and their clothes, Ronin became horribly irritated. It was when they had to run combs through their hair, however, that caused the most trouble, as after Toklata had her hair pulled free by Ronin and then checked, Sakura apologized for forgetting about it and began tugging at it again before they went into the Hall. She still wailed miserably, despite the apology.

At the end of the tunnel, the cavern opened into a huge white dome, its walls perfectly flawless in every judgment. As Toklata examined the walls, they seemed to breathe, and she became even more reluctant to enter, falling behind the other two. They both noticed, and Ronin reached out a big, comforting hand for her to latch onto

"What is it?" she asked, feeling a bit safer.

"The whole thing together is the Hall of Princes," Sakura answered. Then she shrugged. "As for what it's made of…nobody knows. I'll tell you the story later."

Ronin snorted, but didn't say anything, and shuffled around a bit in his robe, making it fall open to his stomach—the modesty of not being able to walk around with an exposed chest seemed to be getting to him. Sakura sighed—he always made some disgusted, unbecoming sound at even the vaguest mention of Desmond Tiny, then always refused to speak further on the subject. Toklata, however wasn't aware of this, and looked around to see what her master was upset about. Her eyes fell on a guard who had seemingly popped out of nowhere. He hailed them inside impersonally, which seemed to trigger a pair of doors to slither open at the Hall's end. Sakura led them forward with more confidence than the other two could muster.

The Hall inside was completely lit, though not by any torches or glowing lichen, but Toklata didn't bother questioning it—the brightness was welcome when compared to the other dim, miserable caverns. Rows of seats circled around the dome, as if protecting the platform in the center of it all, where four thrones sat, three of them occupied. She imagined that it looked like a big crop circle from above.

As they walked past the seats—which were nearly all full—Sakura explained to her how something of a class system kept the normal vampires in the back, mountain workers in the middle, and the Generals in their rightful place up front.

"We'll be sitting in one of the first few rows today, though, since we're the reason everyone is here," she said as Toklata looked back at the rows of ordinary vampires worriedly as they continued on past them.

"So we are just 'ordinary,' then?" she asked disheartedly, looking down.

Sakura glanced at Ronin and seemed on the brink of making a smart remark, but decided against it. "Us? No. It's just a general title. A generalization of rank or status. And all generalizations are false. Including this one."

Toklata was quiet after that, at least until they reached their seat amongst the Generals. She saw Ishin in the row ahead of them and waved merrily to him, finally catching his eye after several moments of doing so. He smiled subtly, sending back a single curt wave. Without his scythe, he didn't seem quite as imposing, it seemed, and his hair looked a bit neater, too, though one half of his face was still covered by the blonde mess. Today, a dark blue band to match his eyes was tied around his forehead, keeping it so that he could at least see out of one eye through his locks.

She looked ready to lean forward and begin talking to him, but before she could, a huge General stamped the end of a staff into the platform and called out her and Ronin's names. He rose and stepped closer to the platform, she followed suit, and Sakura followed after them as if she had been called as well.

"Ready?" she whispered.

They both replied with a miserable grunt.

--

There were three Princes present, two of which Toklata identified as looking very cruel, and the other one as looking very old—they were_ all_ very muscular. They all examined her with expressions that made her squirm and fall behind Ronin even more.

The oldest grasped his chin, hidden somewhere beneath a long silver beard, and let out a long sigh. "Takoda," he said simply.

Sakura smiled ruefully and Ronin smirked. She bowed gracefully, and he inclined his head in a slight gesture of courtesy. Toklata thought it wiser to copy the former.

"Yes, Paris?" he pushed, still smirking.

Another sigh, and the Prince continued, not as amused as Ronin. "I hoped I would not live long enough to see _another_ Takoda in here for some ridiculous mistake. Alas…You all end up taking your mentor's family name, and I suppose it is just some sort of _curse_ from there."

"It's inevitable, sire," Sakura contributed sweetly. "Undoubtedly, you'll see several more of them before your time comes."

Another Prince, dressed all in black to contrast his pale skin, and to match his black hair, raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And with a Takoda comes their loyal—_What_ are you, Miss Hiroshi, a lawyer?—to talk her friends out of trouble."

"A geisha," she corrected impatiently.

"It makes no difference," Ronin mumbled. "Either way, your job is to deceive men." He was swiftly elbowed.

"Ah, a prostitute," the same dark, gloomy Prince interjected, though he seemed to be bordering on a…a smile?

_No_, Toklata thought. He seemed incapable of a smile, but something else in his features suggested that a dry, sarcastic joke had just been made.

Sakura was scandalized; having a hard time keeping her sociable smile. "Now, now, Prince Mika, we've been through this. Several times. Don't insult me."

"Ah, but—"

Seeing the woman's darkening, dangerous expression, Ronin cupped a hand over her mouth. "Fun as this is," he said dryly, "It's not why I'm here." A pause. "Actually, Sakura, you _are_ the reason I'm here. Keep distracting them."

"Ro," she warned.

He shrugged and then urged Toklata to step forward with his free hand. She nervously did so, taking a great bit of effort to raise her eyes to meet the Princes, and then to avert them and bow again. Certainly, Sakura had bought her as much time as possible, and it was time for her and Ronin to step up.

--

A/N—Um…I really meant to do the whole meeting in this chapter, but with everything else, it just…became long enough. And it'll buy me another week's time to write the rest… Ummm… (::Nervously pushes Sakura towards her readers:: "Quick! Buy me some time! Distract them!")

Seriously, though. I'm disappointed. I hoped to get the whole thing out. -Sigh- But at least I'm semi-on time, right? Damn, that silver kimono obi made another appearance, didn't it? (::Tries to figure out how to burn it without encouraging Ronin's wrath::)

(For the record, I tried to put this up on Saturday, but Fanfiction wasn't behaving...)


	15. Chapter 14: Judgement

It was unfortunate but true. Sakura had served as a nice distraction, but even she wasn't sugary-sweet enough to completely distract the Princes from their main focus. She knew that—she hadn't set up the stupid meeting just to squirm out of it—and so did Ronin and his assistant, but it still seemed to come as a small shock to them.

Toklata stepped forward and bowed sweetly again, hiding her nervousness behind a mask of bright eyes and small lips turned painfully upward. Her smile, it seemed, was becoming a tool for her survival, and she sometimes feared that it would eventually become a meaningless thing; would someday fail to provoke Ronin's own smile.

But that didn't matter at the moment—she would have grinned wide enough to make her face permanently stick that way if it assured that she would squirm out of the meeting safely. (This wasn't likely, but she smiled all the same.)

"Toklata Samson, my assistant," Ronin introduced stolidly, giving that small nod of his head that was supposed to equal a bow.

"And how old are you, Toklata?" Mika asked in what she supposed was an attempt to sound gentle. It wasn't quite the soothing coo that Ronin could twist his rough voice into, but she decided to give him points for taking it easy on her eardrums.

Politely as she could, she answered, "Ten, sire."

He turned his eyes on Ronin, gentleness forgotten as the crowd around them broke into hushed and hurried conversations. Mika didn't bother to stop them. "Ten?!" he roared. "_Ten?!_"

Ronin was pinching the bridge of his nose all the while, obviously making a huge effort not to yell back at the Prince, who continued with, "And worse yet, I've heard she _acts_ half her age!"

Toklata was insulted now; she most certainly did not act like a five-year-old. Yes, perhaps she wasn't trying to strike out and tear away from her protective master's arms to make trouble, but she had already gotten all the independence she could stand during her days as a human. She reasoned to herself that she simply wasn't a rebellious-type person, and that there was nothing wrong with that. She didn't get a chance to voice this discovery, though. Sakura was speaking.

"Sire, please. Our explanation is—"

The third prince spoke up now. He was bald and covered in arrow tattoos all over. Toklata decided to call him 'Arrow.' "You're not the one in question, Sakura," he scowled.

She smoothly closed her mouth and gazed up at them with a mildly questioning expression perfected from many years of practice. Toklata noted a bit of nervousness in the woman's slightly tense posture, and bet whole-heartedly that she was wishing for a fan to hide her lips behind; it was a habit that made itself known when she was trying to think of something clever to say. It was confirmed when she drew her hand up over her mouth as a substitute. She drew in a breath to say something, but was cruelly cut off.

"Miss Hiroshi, you make a bad habit of coming to the rescue of Jaden Takoda and her disciples," Paris sighed, waving a hand at her dismissively. "And truly, you should not be putting your nose in it. You are not a troublemaker like them, but you always get yourself in trouble _this_ way. Please, would you take a seat?"

She held her ground, eyes widening with false confusion as a small smile crept over her features. Her accent suddenly became very noticeable, and sugary-sweet. "My, my, sires. I just can't help it. I've been there to look after Jaden since she was…nearly nine. It's an unconscious thing, and I'm afraid I can't control what has become an instinct, sires."

Toklata admired her calmness, but knew that she was also doing something sneaky somehow. The Princes knew as well, but she was allowed to stay by she and Ronin's side.

The man stepped forward more. "Yes, she's ten." He held up a hand to wave away any more questions, but they were ready to listen now. "But I have a perfectly good reason, I assure you," he continued. "If I hadn't…If I hadn't blooded her, she would have…she'd be gone now."

"Why? Was she an orphan? Sick? Abused?"

He was tempted to explore the "abused" category, but decided that being ignored and being abused weren't really the same at all. Saying that she was would be a lie, but he played on another pitiful word. "No, no, and no…but neglected. Lonely. A prodigy left undiscovered."

Toklata's smile swelled, but Mika quirked an eyebrow skeptically. "And she would have died because of these things?"

"Of course not, but her natural sword skills would have gone to wa—"

"Yes, yes. But why would she have died?"

"Well, generally that's what happens when you get stabbed through the chest," he snarled.

Gasps and murmurs ran through the hall as eyes fell on Toklata's back. She considered turning around and showing them her scar to draw more pity, but wasn't sure if she'd be able to pull the constricting kimono open enough to do so, and didn't want to risk the embarrassment.

Arrow attempted to hush the hall, but they were disgusted. Apparently it was fine to do a vampire child a good deal of harm, but to deal the same fate to a human, a human child, and one so wide-eyed and seemingly innocent was unthinkable. Unless it was for the good of the clan, of course. It was all very confusing.

Finally, silence was achieved. Slowly, Paris asked, "Did _you_ hurt her, and then feel guilty?

Toklata expected Ronin to be furious at the accusation, but instead, his eyes widened as he jerked involuntarily, right hand moving slowly to his scar. It hovered just above the skin, as if it hurt to touch. He seemed unable to speak, and Sakura too looked sadly exasperated. She had a hand over her forehead and eyes, but Toklata could see that she was discreetly looking pityingly to him. She decided to take it upon herself to speak for her guardians.

"No way!" she scowled. "Master would never hurt someone he cared about! It's just not—"

"Toklata." Ronin had regained his voice, and was looking down at her with a tired warning. The rough use of her full name made her hush and look down at her feet, shuffling them a bit. He looked back to the Princes slowly. "No. I wasn't the one who did it. It was a vampire hunter. She just got caught in the middle of our fight."

"But…was she randomly there, or was she there because of some relation to you?" Mika asked, seeming intent on getting Ronin in trouble, Toklata thought. Immediate dislike was born for the Prince, even though she knew somewhere that it was unfair to judge him so quickly.

He sighed. "She was there because she had been kidnapped by the hunter. I was there to save her."

"So you're saying that—"

He was getting away from depression, but bordering on impatience now. "Yes, _sire_, she would not have been in that situation if not for her attachment to me," he said through gritted teeth. Then, his voice softened again. "She'd been following me around for…about a week, maybe, and he…he just chose that time to show up. Initially, I had no intention of blooding her. Everything just…It all happened so fast. It…it always does."

"It would have been better for the clan if you had let her die, you realize?" Arrow sighed. "The last thing we need right now is a reason to improve our child-rearing skills."

Ah. At injustice, Ronin's fight returned to him in a snap. One moment he was looking at the floor, the next, he was glaring up at the Prince. "I don't care what's better for you! I couldn't bear to let down another person that I was trying to protect!"

"What he means," Sakura cut in hastily, "is that he had grown attached to the child and selfishly chose to let her live. If any of you had children, you might grasp it; and Ro here doesn't really like kids, but he's very good with them and tends to get very close to them! So yes, now he has the burden of a young child, but it's a burden that he's put on himself, and he doesn't expect—"

"_Miss_ Hiroshi! Please!"

"She's still practically a baby."

"How close are we talking?"

Ronin was disgusted. Anger was starting to bubble up, just as it always seemed to do when he was around massive amounts of people, and with that accusing _question_, his expression took on a dark, sick shade. "I know what you're implying. Don't you even go there."

Mika clicked his tongue skeptically and turned back to Toklata, not bothering with the soft tone from earlier. "Has your mentor here ever touched you; hurt you?" he demanded, in a way that made her nervous. She thought hard before answering, and Ronin seemed to trust her to say the right thing, as he simply waited.

"Well, he cuffed me over the head once since I wouldn't be quiet during meditation, and…" she thought harder. "I get lots of bruises from swordsmanship training, but I figure that can't be helped… Oh! And he hugged me earlier!" Her chest swelled. After all, how many people were special enough to get that from Ronin Takoda? Not many, she bet. "I wish he'd do that more, because I want to hug him all the time and he's always so con…"

"Conservative," Sakura agreed.

"And unaffectionate."

"And uncaring, and—"

He cleared his throat to say that the Princes were safely convinced now; they could stop. Toklata wasn't sure what she had been trying to convince them of, but it the accusation had apparently made her master sick to his stomach, and that was all she needed.

It was quiet for a bit, and the trio thought that maybe they were off the hook. Until Arrow growled, "She is still only a decade old."

"With all due respect, sires, the young Captain of the Shinsengumi's First Unit, the genius swordsman and child prodigy Souji Okita was only nine when he first picked up a sword," Sakura pointed out.

"This isn't the human world, Sakura! You're just making excuses now! War in the human's world doesn't come close to our—"

"You weren't there," she interrupted, which was strangely unlike her. "Japan during the last days of the Shogunate's rule was hell on earth. You can't even imagine the dirty tactics used. Buildings burned every day, people were killed every night, as if a tuberculosis epidemic was enough of population control!"

They Princes grudgingly fell silent, but Ronin looked horrified. Souji Okita was a famous. Famous for being a genius swordsman who adored candy and children and was often seen meandering around imperial Kyoto's orphanages in his spare time. But he was also famous for being the Shinsengumi's First Unit Captain, which qualified him also for the title of "demon." Ronin had only ever see him once, and by then he was so far gone with tuberculosis that he wasn't much of a threat to anyone, but he was the very reason that Jaden, a woman, had been able to worm her way into the notorious group. Quite simply, Okita had managed to do serious bodily harm to all of the training partners offered to him. But he still needed to train, and thus was on the search for a practically indestructible samurai. Jaden was that samurai. And even when it was a human versus a vampire, the kid still managed to give her at least one nasty bruise per sparring session.

She'd adored him, along of the rest of the members, but never approved of his being thrown into war at such a tender age. She said he still had a child's mind; that was why he always smiled to cope with the bloodshed. It was also why his smile didn't mean a thing—it was sad and empty.

Jaden had come up with many colorful nicknames for various Shinsengumi officers. They were all either funny or insulting, including, "the Wiseguy, the Dumbass, and the Baby Pervert," for the self-proclaimed "Comedian Trio" of the Miburo. But Okita's…wasn't quite so playful, he remembered. He had been "Oni no Ko," meaning "Child of Demons."

Suddenly he understood Jaden's warning fully.

"Because when you let a child pick up a sword, and introduce to them bloodshed and killing too soon, they grow up either to face heartbreak, or to become completely unstable!" she had said. So, if Toklata was pushed into a turbulent life before her mind matured, there was a chance that she would become that same emotionless killer.

Just something else to worry about.

He pushed it aside for the time being and concentrated on the Princes. Sakura's comment, and any others that she may have made while he had been thinking, seemed to have sedated the trio, but they were looking down at him sternly from their thrones.

Well…he wasn't getting away without _some_ punishment.

--

A/N-Ah! Sorry it took so long. It is Spring, though, and I've felt this awful need to be outside lately. I've become quite the gardener this year…

Okita Souji and the Shinsengumi are real!! I love my use of history. I love Okita, too. But most people who've heard of him do. The Shinsengumi was a group of ronin who banded together to patrol Kyoto's streets and protect the rule of the Tokugawa Shogunate from the Choshu rebels. Well…the Choshu won, and they were for modernizing Japan and abolishing the unfair class system…so if you want to judge, the Shinsengumi were the "bad guys." But people today adore them. They just do. (And the real Okita did like candy and kids. It's seriously historically accurate.) I may have taken some creative liberties, but bear with me. I love those boys in blue and white too.


	16. Chapter 15: Punishment and War

The Princes seemed to be subdued to a safe degree, but Ronin knew that he wouldn't get away completely unscathed. There wouldn't be any deaths or difficult tests, but he had a dreary feeling that it still wasn't going to be pretty.

Toklata, thought hadn't quite grasped that all danger was past, and so, as Paris started to speak, she interrupted loudly, latching onto her mentor's leg and squeezing hard enough to cut off circulation. Ronin winced painfully but let her continue with, "I won't let you kill master! You can't do that; it's not ri—"

"Hush now," Came Ishin's cool voice as he plopped a rough hand onto her head as he stepped slightly ahead of the other three. "No one's planning on laying a finger on your mentor at this point."

He looked almost regal as he stepped forward confidently, with the tails of his headband flailing around a bit after him despite the lack of any wind whatsoever, and he had the good sense to walk directly past her rather than Ronin, as to not make the height difference so painfully obvious.

"Sires, I hope you'll acknowledge an idea in this difficult situation," he said smoothly, with his usual perfect amount of both respectfulness and confidence. Paris nodded and asked him to continue, which he did just as effortlessly, continuing diplomatically with, "I fully support punishment, as blooding children is technically against our laws, but also believe strongly that you must not get out of line with Takoda's penalty. He is not at fault for heroically saving a life any more than Toklata here is at fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Hey!" Ronin snarled, stepping ahead as well. Ishin turned around to face him, and his earlier tact pitifully lost as he found himself face-to-shoulder with the other man. "No one asked you to come to my rescue, you damn dog!"

"I'm not coming to _your_ rescue," he replied calmly, turning his back on the furious Ronin to face the three Princes, which Toklata figured made him a very brave person.

"What's your suggestion?" Mika asked, also paying no mind to the fuming vampire just behind the General, along with the other two Princes and Sakura.

"Well," he began thoughtfully, "despite the fact that I usually go out of my way to avoid him, I somehow seem to know Takoda here very well. …Perhaps it's just his lack of general courtesy. He doesn't really seem to be too openly friendly does he?"

Ronin's fists clenched, but he remained—only with a huge amount of self-control—in his place, curious over what Ishin was thinking up.

"Well, that's really not important, is it?" he continued coolly. "The point was, it would be an evil thing to separate Toklata from her mentor even for a short period of time, at her young age and her delicate stage of vampirism. But I know exactly how to punish him mildly while still giving him hell, and without drawing from the pair's training…mostly, anyway. I know that Takoda absolutely can't stand crowded places—it's common knowledge, really—and doesn't generally get along with the rest of us."

Toklata marveled. Ishin was also apparently a master of drawing suspense. Arrow wasn't quite so amazed with his careful procrastination, though, and barked, "Get on with it, Kadoma!"

Ishin nodded. "I suggest you put him to work as mountain staff for about a year or so."

"_Bastard_," Ronin hissed, but the General ignored it.

"When you consider our long lives, I know that a year doesn't seem like much, but his offense really wasn't much either. He did what he did to save a life. But also, I'm sure his general dislike of people will make his term seem much longer. It all evens out, sires, I assure you."

Ronin scowled, grudgingly impressed with the man's cleverness. This punishment was a horribly cruel idea when he considered his feelings on the rest of the vampire world, but also painfully fair and just compared to a few other options that came to mind.

"Yes…" Paris said, stroking his long beard thoughtfully. "It sounds fair enough. Would you agree, Mika, Arrow?"

Mika skipped a direct answer. Apparently, he did agree, and he knew exactly where in the mountain he wanted to shove the poor man, as he stoically asked, "Ronin Takoda, can you cook?"

He winced. Jaden had been an impossibly _horrible _cook—truly, he was sure that there was no other woman in the world who could turn a plain pot of white rice into inedible burnt slop—and Sakura would humbly inform one that she could serve food with perfect grace and alluring charm, but quite simply couldn't prepare it. In effect, not looking forward to having raw meat day in and day out, his culinary skills had been toned to an acceptable level before he even had the chance to swing a sword. Still, it was not something that he would openly speak of or show off. And besides, he didn't see much how it mattered if the Prince was planning what Ronin thought he was planning; most vampires didn't seem to care how whatever they were eating tasted. So as an answer to the question, he shrugged distractedly.

The three discussed it quickly amongst themselves and came to a happy agreement in record time. "Ronin Takoda," Arrow started, frowning as usual, "you are to be put to work in the kitchens of Vampire Mountain for a full year, effective immediately."

"Wait, I have to start today?!" he growled, about ready now to push Ishin out of his way. Sakura subdued and hushed him, reminding him in a quiet tone to be grateful his behind wasn't being carted off to the Hall of Death.

"Great," Paris chuckled. "That was almost painless. You're dismissed, you two…you three, I suppose, since Miss Hiroshi was so intent on remaining by your side. Ishin, could you escort Mr. Takoda to his new workplace?"

"Of course," the General answered with a deep bow, turning and striding away coolly. Toklata also bowed quickly and bounced after him, while Sakura did the very same and pulled Ronin be the ear after them.

--

Despite an obvious attempt by Toklata to cheer him up, there wasn't a curse under the sun that didn't leave Ronin lips as they stalked the halls (though the return of his katana had made him lower his voice a bit).

"Can you imagine, Sakura, ma'am?!" he was whining. "Me! Cooking for these animals! I ought to commit seppuku right now! _Right now!"_

Sakura, in turn, mumbled for him to hush up; that seppuku would only serve to orphan Toklata, and so she would then have to take up raising the girl herself, and would force her to abandon the sword for all sorts of tooth-rottingly feminine things, eventually turning her into a source of beauty and entertainment for rich old men. This picture was enough to steer the man from any more words about suicide, though Toklata suspected there was no way he had been serious in the first place; after all, he wasn't _that_ vain and selfish.

Still, knowing better than to press her master while he was in a sour mood, she bounced ahead a bit to talk with Ishin. He hadn't said anything the whole trip, and spared her only a glance as she met his stride. But Sakura and Ronin were arguing about her future behind them, so there was no chance of her leaving him to return to the pair just to stand neatly between them as they bickered.

"You know, that was really nice of you, but also really cruel of you at the same time," she informed him when he showed no signs of speaking to her first. "I don't know how you can even do something like that. Be two opposite things at once, I mean."

"Practice," he replied patiently.

"Really?"

"No. It's just a talent. Like your mentor's talent for hardly ever acting his age, or Miss Sakura's talent of calming people down, or your own talent of softening the hearts of nearly everyone around you."

"No way!" she protested, pouting. "Sakura says I'm a fearsome samurai!"

He smiled a bit. "I'll bet Miss Sakura doesn't say that while Ronin's around, does she?"

Toklata considered it, and was surprised to find that it was true—In the presence of her master, Sakura always used the term "swordsman."

"Yeah. But why?"

"Ronin doesn't think to highly of samurai," he sighed. "Absolutely hates them. Most people—and vampires—get a pretty positive image of samurai through folklore told by people like Miss Sakura and Miss Jaden, who don't exactly lie, but who don't tell the whole truth." He looked over his shoulder as he uttered the last sentence, making sure that the woman and Ronin were still engaged in argument, then turned back around with a sigh, continuing. "You see, your master believes that all of the samurai to ever exist were either hounds doomed to remain leashed to their respective lords, so blindly loyal that they don't care if they're doing wrong so long as they're pleasing their superiors, or wicked and cowardly bullies who abused and were corrupted by the insane amount of power given to them by the Shogunate's class system. Unfortunately, he's not too far off, and that's one of the few things we agree on. He gets horribly insulted by the term, and you'll learn pretty quickly not to call him by that—I'm just giving you an early warning."

"But he—" she protested, before being cut off when Ishin waggled a slim finger in front of her.

"Ronin's just…well, he's a _ronin_—an unattached swordsman who wanders freely and who has no lord hanging over him giving orders. Just a…a dirty vagabond, but far more respectable than a samurai."

She frowned, not entirely convinced yet. "But people call master's master—

Jaden Takoda, I think her name was—'The Lady Samurai' all the time, but he never defends her name. I'd think that he would."

Ronin had apparently been listening long enough to catch parts of the conversation, as he stepped forward enough so that he was even with the other two and snorted. "Because she doesn't deserve defending! She _was_ a samurai—the kind that would do anything demanded by her superiors, so long as they were respectable. And in the end, she was an idiot who chose pride over her life just like the rest of them! She was my master, and I can't help but love—respect, I mean—her, but…that isn't any sort of repentance for acting as a tool for masters that only wanted to use her! What a moron!"

Sakura saw fit to skeptically contribute now, lengthening her stride gracefully so that she could catch them. "Ah, there you go," she sighed. "A minute ago, you were talking about committing seppuku, and now you're going on and running that and the rest of the bushido through the mud. You're such a hypocrite!"

"You know it's true, Sakura!" he snapped, voice rising dangerously. "She did so much awful shit throughout her life! Hell, she had time to seriously hurt everyone she cared for at least twice, and when she tossed her life away, she left the burden of everything stupid or evil she'd ever done for my shoulders! That goddamn selfish _whore_—"

It was amazing how quickly her sweet and submissive composure left her when the right topic was breached. Toklata and Ishin both saw it about to happen, but remained utterly powerless as Sakura's fingers curled, without any elegance whatsoever, into a tight fist on her right side, and swung it around to meet Ronin's face.

He seemed surprised at first, blinking and tilting his head stupidly, but regained his senses after she grasped his shoulders and launched him to the cold ground, kicking her legs out from under her and smashing her flawless face against the mountain floor. They were soon a ridiculously childish-looking mess on the ground, except far more deadly. They were absolutely merciless.

Toklata let out a yelp and tried to find her way between them, but was quickly drawn back by the collar of her kimono by Ishin.

"You won't make it out unharmed if you jump in now," he chided in a hushed tone, though she was sure the pair couldn't hear them anyway. "They'd stop to drag you to safety, but not quickly enough for you to save all of your bones from fracture. Stay here."

With that direction, he proceeded to slowly step towards them. It wasn't one of the mountain's average brawls—they were kicking and pulling hair and screaming in embarrassingly loud voices about what one of them always did to piss off the other one; how irritating and selfish the other one was. They looked like a pair of siblings who started out fighting over something stupid, but then began to quibble and eventually created war.

Ishin must have deemed breaking them up hopeless, as he began to lunge towards the pair several times, but always drew back, and finally just roared at them like an annoyed parent, telling them to act their age, _dammit_. And the result of this was almost comical, as they both quit immediately and stood up straight next to each other, meeting the ground with their angry eyes as if ashamed. Sakura's nose was bleeding and her hair was pulled out of its earlier tight style, while Ronin's eye was blackening by the minute. He also spat out a molar.

"You two should be embarrassed," Ishin scowled, scolding them with his usual frigid yet controlled demeanor, standing before them with his arms crossed in a disappointed fashion. Sakura began to speak, but he shot her a quick silencing glare and continued. "It's ridiculous. You're ridiculous. Don't even start to blame your 'fighting spirit' or your 'vampire blood.' This is an awful time to start squabbling amongst yourselves, so clean up your acts, the both of you."

They fidgeted now, before Sakura snorted snobbishly and brushed away a stray lock of hair, stomping back in the direction that they had come from with a rather exaggerated swing of her hips, lightly holding a hand over her bleeding nose.

Toklata began to run after her, but stopped after a few paces when she realized that Ronin wasn't following. He was looking at her with mild but skeptical interest, just waiting to see whom she would choose to go with. It wouldn't have been such a difficult choice if the ex-geisha hadn't stopped and turned to latch her brown eyes onto the girl as well.

And with no hope, she raced past Ronin and Ishin to find her own way around the mountain.

--

A/N—School is almost over, people. Then, I promise I'll churn out a chapter more often. –sigh- Not entirely happy with this one, though. That fight came out of nowhere, really… Wait, Ronin cooking? Where did _that_ come from? I'm not quite sure about any of this…enjoy anyway…

Oh yeah! Seppuku is ritual suicide performed by samurai (it's really painful and slow and bloody—they had to slit/stab their abdomen) and the bushido is the samurai's code, kind of like the Knights of Medieval Europe's chivalry (basically, be brave, loyal, honorable…except, samurai didn't have to be polite to women like knights, and by today's standards, they rarely did).


	17. Chapter 16: Ghosts of the Past

Ronin caught up with her quite easily, of course, but with some biting and kicking and some of Sakura trying desperately to hold her as well, she was able to escape. Sakura's assistance had only hindered their plot to capture her, as she and Ronin, lacking their usual harmonic coordination with each other, only ended up getting their arms tangled up and their heads knocked together, and thus they broke into another fight. Ishin, meanwhile, didn't bother either trying to break them up or to go after her, but let out a sigh and leaned on the nearest rocky wall, closing his eyes as if he planned on sleeping though all of the turbulence.

Toklata knew that it wasn't simply from a lack of care for her on his part, and felt happy for a fleeting moment that _someone_ trusted her to be on her own, even if she had never really felt the need to run free before. But then she remembered exactly why she wanted to flee, and sobered up quickly, taking the first turn that she came across in her desperate attempt to get away.

She wasn't completely sure why she was so upset. Sakura and Ronin's fight hadn't been a major, long-lasting battle; it was really more of a squabble between annoyed siblings (except with the force of full-vampires) and she doubted that it would take more than a week for them to make up. And yet, she felt close to tears about it—or, perhaps, the whole day. Yes, maybe she was just feeling the stress of the day—along with her two guardians, she reasoned. If she could just find her way back to their room, grab her flute, and sneak off into a cavern somewhere to relax and just play, perhaps she would feel fine. And perhaps when she came back, Sakura and Ronin would have already made up. It really seemed illogical for them to hold a grudge against each other, as neither one of them seemed to have any other friends, which wasn't strange for her master, but seemed out of place for socialite Sakura. She really couldn't survive _too_ long without having someone to talk to, right?

Having made up her mind to let them settle things out without her presence being in the way, she proceeded to nervously ask every vampire she passed to point her in the general direction of the sleeping quarters, thus finding her way eventually. Once in the general vicinity, she easily located Seba and politely, if a little sadly, asked if he would escort her to her room. He agreed, but couldn't help but ask where her ever-present guardians were off at that they had made the normally unthinkable choice of leaving her alone.

"They had a fight," she explained. "I decided to hide out until they're calm enough so that they aren't arguing over me. I guess I'm going to just take my flute down and practice--I'd take my sword and practice with that too, but...Sakura still has it." She kicked the ground angrily. "Yeah, just flute practice, then."

"I see," he replied, nodding. "You should be fine on your own, I suppose, so I have no qualms about it. You have a place in mind?"

"Yessir, we've had training in this one nice cavern a few times before."

He smiled as they reached she and Ronin's room. "I suppose you're set then. Now, is it okay to alert your mentor of where you are should he go on a rampage?"

"After a few hours," she said, frowning. "I _guess_. But he still needs to start trusting me."

Seba laughed and told her to expect him within a smaller interval of time, such as thirty minutes. "It is not you that he does not trust, Miss Samson. He seems very cold and cruel to those who do not know him, but Ronin is truly a rather overprotective giant…teddy bear."

She pouted. "Like a mastiff? No, no, it doesn't matter! Master just thinks I'm going to go around making trouble!"

The old vampire heaved a tired sigh before shaking his head and bidding her farewell, leaving her to hop inside and collect her flute. She was puzzled; however, with Seba's reply to her just as he left. So puzzled that she forgot to change.

Thinking hard, she absentmindedly pulled out her hair as she wondered—had Seba left tiredly agreeing with her, or had the shake of the head meant that he still held strong with his own belief, or did he simply not want to waste time arguing with her? She would have liked to believe him, but couldn't bring herself to. Surely, there was no one in the mountain who would outright attack her with intentions of death, so her safety must only be an excuse made by her mentor to keep her from running wild.

She pushed it aside, telling herself that she was wasting time that she could use to prove to Ronin wrong. Despite always clinging onto him, she wanted to show him that she could fend for herself._ Then_, she would go back to fearing the world and riding on his shoulders. Happy with this plan, she raced back out the door of the cell.

From there, she amazed herself by finding her way to the little cavern without any trouble at all, and was happy to find it empty. The only thing that might impediment her from then on was the roar of the waterfall; she was sure that she'd never be able to hear herself over it if she were to sit too close, but didn't see anything that looked particularly comfortable to sit on away from it. Still, she didn't want to get wet.

Sighing, she settled on the ground halfway between the grooved rocks of the waterfall and the far wall with its uncomfortable stalagmites. Then, she let out a groan of disapproval as the lack of something to rest her back against forced a perfect posture as she opened her battered case and began to put together the few shining pieces of metal.

She felt her back strain when she finally brought the instrument to her lips and, scowling, threw herself onto the cavern floor, trying again in that position. Her flute scraped off the ground a bit, but she deemed it unimportant in comparison to her comfort and, finally, began to play from memory.

Mundane children's rhymes began to come out in short, slow notes. It displeased Toklata quite a bit to hear the unflowing, broken rhythm of songs that she'd known forever, but she wasn't _practicing_ so much as keeping herself occupied, really, so she was able to ignore it and think quietly to herself more than really concentrate on proper notes. For all she cared, Mary and her Little Lamb could have been left to the wolves.

Save for the earlier fight, things were heading in a boring direction in her life. With her master off cooking every day, she suspected that her training would become a rare thing. And worse, what would she do while he was off "at work?" Even when they hadn't been training, sticking to Ronin like glue had kept her busy, but now she was at a loss. Without proper resources, she knew that even Sakura could only hold her attention for so long. She certainly _did not_ need to learn how to play a shamisen, as she found its sound boring and irritating—three strings and no frets only made for three notes, after all—and she really didn't have the attention span for other fine arts.

Could they possibly spar all day? She didn't exactly like the sound of that; she'd be dead by noon. And that was assuming they got down there at ten.

Of course, all of this depended on whether she and Ronin had made up. If they hadn't, she wouldn't be going near Sakura. At all. He was just that stubborn.

Her fingers began to play a tune that was familiar, but that she couldn't place a name with at the moment. Frowning, she took her flute from her lips and hummed the song over several times, finally attaching some words to it. "Ring around the Rosie, pocket full of roses…no, posies. Pocket full of posies…"

Unsure of the rest, she brought her instrument back to her lips and played the end. Just as she started playing, a small voice from somewhere off beside her sang deadly and stoically along.

"Ashes, ashes, it all burns down."

Startled, Toklata sat up and turned to the source of the sound. Several feet away, a man sat hugging his knees to his chest, staring down at the ground. Shaggy silver-grey hair hung over his eyes messily, but he was wearing a very nice black suit with a light lavender undershirt, and had the cutest tie she'd ever seen. It was light purple with random spots of various other shades of the same color placed sparsely over it.

"Um…excuse me, sir, but I think it's 'Ashes, Ashes, We all fall down,'" she informed him, nervously unsure of how long he had been there.

He looked slowly up at her, apparently just as puzzled with her presence as she was with his. Despite his silvery hair, she saw now that he had very round, boyish features—he didn't look too much older than Ronin, in fact. There was a pair of small, round glasses neatly perched on his nose, seeming to be too far down to be doing much to help his dull grey eyes, and the skin that she could see was lined with many long, faint scars, all of which looked like they'd been inflicted by the same person in a relatively short period of time.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking away from her and tilting his head. "I was thinking of another day."

"O-oh…"

"That's such a nice instrument," he sighed, looking back to her. It looked like a smile was trying very hard to crack his face, but was locked in a bitter battle against the gloominess that he had first looked at her with. "That ugly case would lead me to believe that you're a cheap sort of person. It's deceiving and cruel…" His frown took over for a brief, unfocused moment of thought, but then, as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, a smile did break through. It was a slightly unnerving, tortured smile, but it was one nonetheless. He asked, "Do you want to hear some band jokes?"

She grinned and nodded, scooting closer to him. He laughed slightly; grinning now, and his face seemed to grow several years younger. "Okay. Umm…" he scrunched up his face in thought. "Ah! Okay, a man walks into a meat store looking for brains for dinner. He sees a sign that says: Flutist Brains - $1/lb

Trumpet Brains - $5/lb  
Percussionist Brains - $50/lb  
Clarinetist Brains - $100/lb.  
The man asks why clarinet brains are so expensive. The butcher replies, 'Do you have any idea how many clarinetists you have to kill to get a pound of brains?'"

Toklata giggled, wishing that she could share the joke with Sakura. Though, she was unsure if the ex-geisha would understand what an insult it was to be called stupider even than a drummer.

"Oh! Here's another good one! Why is a bassoon better than an oboe?"

"Hm?"

"Because it burns longer, sweetie. The oboe's good for lighting it, though. And that's about all it's good for."

She appreciated that while she was laughing he was smiling and doing the same, but not at his own joke. Somehow she knew that he was happy for having made her laugh.

"How many flute players does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

She stopped giggling.

"Just one. She sits on her throne, holds it up, and the world revolves around her."

She frowned. "That's not—"

"Ah, my dear, equality means bashing for all," he chuckled. "Go ahead and laugh at yourself."

"But I'm not—"

"Oh, how rude of me!" he interrupted, anxious not to make her angry. "My name's Outa Itaru…no, it's Itaru Outa here. I always forget. Yes, so, Itaru is my first name and Outa is my family name. Forgive the late introduction…and all that confusion."

She frowned. "Are you…"

"Japanese."

"You don't look—"

He laughed. "I get that a lot. Actually, I've always been interested in Western culture, and that's why my English is so good, but I still screw up with my name. And yours is…?"

"O-oh! Toklata Samson. Sorry. I love your tie."

He smiled again, but it became something nostalgic as he looked over her kimono. His eyes rested on the obi and his features and voice grew heartsick as he told her that it was beautiful; that it reminded him of someone. He seemed to grow depressed and clutched his knees back to his chest, focusing on the ground again.

"Um…Mister Outa…"

His head popped back up, and he was laughing again. "'Mister Outa' was my father, sweetie. I thought teenagers were supposed to be _dis_respectful." He put an arm over his eyes dramatically, pretending to sob. "I don't know what to believe anymore! My life is a lie!" With a slight "oomph," he rolled onto his stomach miserably. "I'm just Itaru," he mumbled.

Toklata couldn't help but smile again. "Okay, Itaru, I—"

"Toklata! There you are!"

She looked over her shoulder. Ronin had found her already, and he seemed to be terrified. His expression grew even more anxious when he noticed the apparently sleeping Itaru.

The man yawned and turned his head slightly, pushing his glasses up again to study Ronin, and after mere seconds, his pale eyes widened manically and he smiled again. But it was that insane, wronged grin that he had first showed to her, and she couldn't help but move slightly away from him as he muttered, "Roden…"

Ronin tore his upset gaze from Toklata to study Itaru. It took him longer to recognize the other man, but it eventually came to him, and he smiled too. "Itaru!" He started to move towards him, astonished. "Itaru, I thought you were—"  
"Don't come near me!" he snarled.

Ronin halted and frowned, his amber eyes growing worried and wide. He was gazing at the other man with a perplexed, hurt expression, but had enough sense to understand, and crooked a finger at Toklata, signaling subtly for her to slowly move away from Itaru while he still had the man's attention. "Itaru, I'm—"

"Here," he chuckled, his crazy, jagged grin stretching across his countenance again. "You're _here_, Roden. You've saved me the trouble of searching for you." He paused thoughtfully, putting a finger to the side of his face, before continuing cruelly. "You'd never imagine the trouble that vampire hunter I hired went through to hunt down Miss Jaden."

And as she felt her face twist with worry, Ronin took a step backwards, agonized surprise covering his features.

So much for boredom.

A/N-Sorry as usual. I really wanted to get this out Friday the 8th, for the 143rd anniversary of the Incident at the Ikeda-ya. (Don't worry if you have no idea what I'm talking about if you're not a Shinsengumi fan. If you are, shame on you for not knowing about it!) But I had a wedding to go to over the weekend, then had to make it back by Sunday night for several finals the next day. Technically, though, I got back Monday morning, with just enough sleep to coast me through the day. I was tired until Wednesday, my last day. Thursday I wanted to hang out with my dog all day, because we put her to sleep later that day. :( Friday I went to an end-of-the-year pool party with my friends, then Saturday I was swimming again at my mom's friend's house. But it's here now.

I don't know if you'll think the band jokes are funny, but it was more to show Itaru's childish, funny personality, when he's not being crazy, than for any entertainment purposes. Oh, speaking of insanity, his hair was originally blonde, but I changed it to white, to follow a strange pattern that I've noticed. Okay, listen to this—Steve, Enishi Yukishiro from Rurouni Kenshin, and Suzu Kitamura from Peacemaker Kurogane: all revenge-obsessed psychos, all white-haired. So I thought, What the hell? Why not follow the crowd on this one?, and made Itaru's hair turn white.

Maybe it's the stress that makes it turn grey? I mean if you focus on revenge your whole life, you must be fairly miserable about something, ne?


	18. Chapter 17: Revenge

Note: "Mibu-ro" is an insulting term for a Shinsengumi soldier. My, they just keep popping up, don't they? My obsession is getting to be unhealthy…

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Ronin's features had twisted into grave and startled agony, as if a trusted friend had just distractedly thrust a knife through him. "Itaru…you…you sent Konosuke after my master…?"

"Of course!" Itaru replied cheerily, as if speaking of bright and sunny weather.

"But…why?" Ronin asked in an unfocused, dead sort of voice as he stared numbly at the man before him. "Was it…was it 'Heavenly Punishment?' Was it to…get revenge on me?"

He laughed good-naturedly and poked his index finger into the air as he explained. "Oh, I had no idea that you two were still so close after all these years! The fact that it hurt you so much to watch her die was like killing two birds with one stone!"

"Then…_why_?"

Itaru frowned, found his way to the waterfall, and sat down on one of the rocks. "Well," he began, his face twisting into an utter, almost tangible expression of blind hatred. "I figured that she'd be the only Mibu-ro left in that day and age…and I just wanted to rid the earth of those filthy _demons_ as quickly as possible. I simply couldn't bear the thought of that wicked, evil woman being free and happy while I was frolicking in _Hell,_ Roden."

Ronin clutched Toklata protectively as she drew further and further away from Itaru, but he didn't seem to be concentrating on her at all. "Iatru," he began shakily, looking down at the ground sadly with mortified yet understanding eyes, "will you kill me as well?"

The man's eyes grew round with surprise and worry. "Oh, no, I would never do that to you," he implored, moving slightly closer.

"Itaru…" he sighed, looking up and beginning to smile, before the other young man held up a finger and continued.

"_Death_ would be far too easy for _you_."

"W…what?" Ronin asked, tilting his head with gruesome confusion.

"Death would be too quick, too plain for the likes of you," Itaru explained slowly, as if frustrated with Ronin's inability to understand something obviously simple. Then, he grinned widely, evilly. "You…need to _suffer_. Suffer in ways your pampered mind would never imagine. Suffer until you understand the extent of your actions, and until you are banished to your own personal living hell. And then, only then, will I even_ consider _granting you the mercy of death."

"Itaru…you're insane!" he choked, picking Toklata up and holding her like a delicate toddler, all the while moving backwards to the exit of the cavern.

"Oh no, I'm just an extremist!" the younger man pointed out wickedly, his grin growing even wilder as his grey eyes lingered over the girl in Ronin's arms. He once again pushed his glasses up to take a better look at her. "My, is this flutist prodigy _yours_? See, I just got here, so I had no idea! This…is a great turn of events…"

"Itaru, if you want revenge, then don't target anyone but me!"

"Where's the fun in that? Even if I started gouging out your eyes, you'd take it all without so much as an agonized cry. You're just like that."

"Please…"

"One-hundred and forty years I've waited, Ro," he crowed thoughtfully, still looking amusedly at Toklata. "I suppose I can wait a few more days to straighten out my plans. And honestly, I'm not surprised. Kids always liked you, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. Lucky for me, you seem to attract the attentions of those who need careful watching over. How horrible it would be if an accident were to happen… But! I'll tell you, you can rest safely for a _week_, at least. Enjoy yourself."

With perfect confidence, he turned and sauntered to a barely noticeable opening on the other side of the cave, undoubtedly the same one he had silently entered through. Toklata waited patiently for Ronin to call out angrily for him to come back and fight; or something about unfairness, but nothing came. She looked up at him, expecting rage at the very least, but instead his features were locked in a petrified and ashamed expression. And instead of following Itaru with his eyes, he was staring hard at the mountainous floor, his grip on her tightening slowly and unconsciously.

"Master," she pleaded, feeling fear wash over her like the first drops of a cold rain when his hands were beginning to feel a bit too constricting for comfort, and he had yet to look up or make any move whatsoever. "What does…what does he want?"

"Revenge…" Ronin deadpanned.

"_For what_?" she implored, feeling herself getting more and more frightened by her master's lack of reaction. Usually he flared at the mention of injustice or a threat to those around him. Plus, despite Itaru's obviously hostile intentions, Ronin had still continuously called him by his first name, and Itaru, even, had called him by _his_** old **given name, from before Jaden's death. They almost seemed to be _friends_.

At her latest question, even, his only reply was a pained grimace, as he raised his hand to numbly run a finger down his scar and sourly retort, "They say that sword wounds made with strong feelings don't fade until the grudges do." He said it in an unattached way that made it seem like a completely unrelated statement, causing his impatient and frightened student to bury her head exasperatedly into his chest as she heaved a tired sigh.

Finally, he turned to leave as well, slowly and wordlessly. Toklata rested her head against his firm chest and closed her eyes sleepily; musing over what a day she had been through. The princes and their judgment, a new enemy— one who seemed to have something like two personalities, and a nasty grudge against her master—_and _Ronin's fight with Sakura.

Remembering now why she had come down to the cavern in the first place, she tiredly and softly asked, "Did you and Sakura make up?" Immediately afterwards, she felt herself drop a bit, as if Ronin had almost let her fall from shock of her words, but then remembered himself. Then, he cursed and began to run.

Naturally, they had both run off in search of Toklata, in completely opposite directions, and so he hadn't got a chance to make up with the woman. In fact, he hadn't planned to at all. Not for a few weeks, at least. But he wasn't too proud to realize that leaving her unaware of Itaru and his plans would be disastrous. After all, Sakura and Toklata were just about the _only_ people he interacted with, so there was no way that she wasn't part of the man's twisted scheme for vengeance.

Thinking about this more, he wondered worriedly who else Itaru was planning on targeting. He was hardly close to anyone at all; it made no sense.

Then, he thought about why exactly it was that Itaru wanted revenge so badly, and gave a pained sigh.

_Someone as industrious as Itaru combined with a vendetta for such a serious offense… _he mused, scaring himself more and more by the second. _He'll find away to pay me back a billion fold._

Toklata, meanwhile, was still wondering what her mentor had done to the other man to inspire such pure hatred. And what Jaden had done to him to make him, a vampire himself, send a vampire hunter out for her head. And even when that was answered, there was still the matter of why he hadn't simply gone after her himself. The whole ordeal looked to be a pretty underhanded scheme. (She was also wondering why Ronin was still carrying her. Surely it was slowing him down.)

--

They found Sakura irritably bashing a few skulls open in one of the three Sporting Halls, no doubt picturing Ronin's arrogantly smirking face on the faces of all the poor fools who dared to cross her. Toklata thought it unwise to make an immediate approach, but her mentor was too frantic to consider being more inconspicuous, and called out her name desperately. She turned fiercely and whacked him upside the head with a blunt training staff, taking graceful care not to hit the girl in his arms as well.

"I know you found her; Seba already told me!" she howled, turning away from him and tossing her spear to the ground so that she was able to cross her arms. "Now, I don't want to see your face at the moment, so _get_!"

"But—"

"Don't argue with me!"

"Sakura, _please!_"

At his desperate tone, it appeared that she was going to turn and hear him out when she gave an exasperated sigh and untucked her arms from underneath one another, then bent down to pick up her abandoned weapon. But really, when she stood back up, all Ronin received was another nasty smack to the skull. While he was recovering, she managed to angrily escape from the Hall, inevitably stalking off to somewhere that neither of them knew about.

He made a gallant attempt to follow her, but wasn't freed so easily by the rest of the brawling crowd—not to mention his care not to harm the bundle in his arms in the process—and the two lost her trail without ever having much of a lead at all. Even when Toklata called out her name, she didn't come running back to them, and Ronin sank to the floor with concern, letting his back scrape down against the mountain wall.

"Don't worry," she consoled. "Itaru said that you have a week before he does anything, so…"

"But still, Tokie, you don't understand… I can't let her just walk around without knowing. Even if she will be safe for that long at least, we shouldn't be at war against each other when there's an enemy plotting against all of us."

"Well," she began angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. "I still don't know what he wants revenge for, but it's unfair of him to go around picking on everyone else. Why didn't you say something to him?"

He smiled sourly. "No one knows more about unfairness than Itaru. To preach to him about such things would make me a hypocrite, and he would happily point that out."

"Where will I go if Sakura isn't going to watch me?" she asked wryly, frowning with distaste.

"Hm?"

"While you're working."

He scowled and started running again. "Damn, I forgot about _that_! I guess you could come make yourself useful as well, at least for today. I'm gonna get chewed out for being so late; I know it!"

--

They found the kitchens without too much trouble, causing Toklata to wonder why in the world Ishin had needed to escort them there earlier. They were quite deep in the mountain's belly, but there was a simple trail to follow to get there, and once one was close, the steam and loud clanging of pots made it fairly obvious were you were heading.

The aforementioned man stood leaning against the wall just outside of the kitchen door, his scythe comfortably back in the crook of his arm. His eyes were closed, but as Ronin got closer, he proved to be awake by sarcastically muttering something about it being nice of him to come after all.

"We ran into some trouble," the other man explained, not a hint of his usual cynical attitude in his voice as he stopped, planning on speaking with Ishin before taking up his new job. "I mean big trouble. And even though we both try to avoid each other, you can still somehow be associated with me, so don't drop your guard."

Ishin opened his eyes now, peering at Ronin with slight interest. "Could this be something potentially dangerous to the whole clan?"

"Probably not. This is…something really personal."

He frowned. "Personal?"

Now it was Ronin's turn to painfully close his eyes. He shook his head. "It's a long and miserable tale, one that should never be told. In short, I let down a good friend several times a while ago, and now he wants revenge."

"Mm. And I could potentially get pulled into it as well?"

"Probably. It's not like I have a million friends for him to go after, so a nemesis-thing might be just as good."

"Why bother warning me, Takoda?" Ishin half-chuckled, looking amused.

"Because you got Toklata's ass off the hook," Ronin replied earnestly, raising an eyebrow as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "You didn't do a damn thing for me, but you drew the Princes' attention away from her. The other child that came here is taking the Trials of Initiation, which is totally ridiculous."

He smiled slightly. "I think you're reading too far into it, Takoda. But should you really be babying her so much?"

"Probably not, but it's my own burden to bear, right?" Ronin said, failing to give his usual smirk, further unnerving everyone as he lowered Toklata to the ground. Obviously, they were in big trouble if he couldn't even manage his normal arrogant attitude.

"I suppose so. Anyway, good luck in there. The Festival of the Undead is only a few days away, so it'll probably be a little insane."

Without bothering to reply to the General's warning, Ronin sighed deeply and stepped into the kitchens, Toklata following after waving goodbye to the other man. The inside of the cavern was steamy, humid and uncomfortably full of life and frantic energy, and nearly as soon as Ronin had put her down, he lifted her back into his arms from fear of her getting squished. They didn't seem to have too many supplies around to work with—she spotted a few sacks of flour, some spices and vegetables, and a bit of too-fresh looking meat cooking over a few fires, but that was about it—but all of the vampires there appeared to be perfectly busy. Or rather, overworked.

There were a lot of women running around, or at least more than Toklata had ever seen in the Halls. They all seemed too muscular to only be cooks, though, so she decided that they must rotate between cooking and beating people up with the other small group she saw in the Sports Halls on, say, a weekly basis. Looking up at Ronin, she wondered whether he felt awkward or happy to be amongst so many females, but was surprised to see that he really didn't seem to care at all. Most of them paid him no mind as well, and he was soon sent to work chopping up vegetables for stew.

Toklata made it a point to simply stay out of everyone's way, which actually did keep her moving quite a bit. Ronin turned every few minutes to see that she hadn't wandered off, then continued with his work, which annoyed her to no end. She was waiting to express her recent need for independence, just to get it out of her system, but knew that the appearance of Itaru had left her master more wary of the rest of the mountain than ever, so naturally, any attempt to get away would be thwarted.

While angsting quietly over this (and not paying attention to the people moving around her), a young woman bumped into her, dumping a vat of bat broth over her head.

Oh yes, hanging out in the kitchens would be fun.

--

A/N—I have no excuses this time. -.-'

Itaru: It could be that your Mibu-ro obsession is…

A/N—Shut up, this was already covered. Besides, don't _you_ have an unhealthy obsession with _killing_ the Shinsengumi…?

Itaru: … (Nonchalantly turns away, tossing a bomb or two over his shoulder at authoress.)


	19. Chapter 18: Sin

Just as a vat of bat broth was dumped over her head, Toklata was cursing how boring she expected wandering around the kitchens would be. After that, though, she suspected that it wouldn't be as plain as she originally thought—though, by no means did that mean it was going to be _fun_.

She found the woman who had spilled the liquid all over her on the ground next to her, apparently quite distressed over something that Toklata considered pretty much all her fault. "Oh," she fawned, picking herself up, then offering her hand to the girl. "I'm so sorry, I'm totally clumsy! How can I ever make it up to you?"

"Um…I'm fine," she chuckled nervously, accepting the hand and bouncing to her feet. "Really."

"Tokie, what have you done?" Ronin sighed tiredly as he turned and noted the mess. Putting down a carrot and his current weapon, a thick kitchen knife, he wandered slowly over to the mess and bent down to turn the now empty vat right side up again. "I'm really sorry, Miss."

"Oh, no," the woman insisted, face reddening as Ronin stood and looked down at her. "I should have been paying better attention. Here." She produced a stick of plastic-wrapped rock candy from the pocket of her faded, falling-apart jeans and handed it to Toklata, who accepted it gratefully. Candy was one of the few things that she missed from her life as a human. When she and Ronin had been aimlessly wandering, her thoughts had often drifted, leading her right into a craving, but she had kept herself from begging her usually sleeping master for sugar by telling herself that it was good for her to be quitting the habit. After all, she was only ten, and whenever she got her hands on something sweet, she could literally _feel_ her teeth rotting. Or feel that they were already rotten. Something along those lines.

But that revelation was forgotten the moment she tore the plastic off of the candy and popped it into her mouth. As she floated about in ecstasy, Ronin continued with his apology.

"You really shouldn't reward her for causing trouble," he was saying, frowning slightly, obviously anxious to get back to his work.

The woman smiled and pushed a lock of light brunette hair that had fallen clumsily from her loose, low ponytail away from her oval face and behind her ears. "Oh, Ro, you don't have to be so rough on her. You've had a hard day, right?"

Naturally, he was suspicious due to recent events, and felt his golden eyes narrow against his will. "How do you…"

It was her turn to pout daintily, but it soon changed to a small smile as her cheeks turned rosy. "Trust someone as coldhearted as you not to remember. I'm one of Sakura's assistants—Katherine. No…you'd probably remember Katie. Remember hanging out just outside of London?"

Internally, he scowled. He remembered some backwater town just off the outskirts of London, and he remembered a woman under Sakura's care, but no face or name in particular. They hadn't seemed to matter much anymore after Rai; but either way, he had always known that not keeping a tab on his short-term love's names would come back to haunt him. All he really recalled detail-wise was teaching her—Katie, apparently—about the hidden greatness of bland, plain food, and that Jaden had still been alive. So, of course, that was what he brought up.

"Oh yeah; _Katie_," he lied, plastering on a smile. "Still don't like those plain buckwheat noodles?"

She made a face, though she seemed to be delighted by his lie of remembering her. "Ugh. I don't know how you can stand that," she gushed, looking down at Toklata.

Oh yes. Eternally cute, eternally clumsy, and oh-so-shy Katie. He remembered now. Back then, the roughness of vampirism hadn't shown so much on her skin, and she'd barely been able to grasp a spear. He was sure she was much better now, though apparently not good enough to avoid scarring.

Feeling awkward as a light silence settled over them, he turned to a mutual subject.

"Your mentor's pissed at me."

"Is that so?" she laughed in her soft voice. "I would put in a good word for you, but I don't see her at all anymore. Do you think I should visit?"

It had always been hard for Ronin to remember that not all student-sire relationships were like his and Jaden's—usually, the student would wander off once they could take care of themselves. (The fact that he stuck with her was what made him Jaden's favorite. Really.) It was always so unnatural to him when one of Sakura or his mentor's other apprentices made an attempt to talk with him—at first, he had thought them disloyal for taking off, but eventually learned that mostly everyone did the same…and that _they_ all thought _him_ clingy and overprotective.

Worriedly, he wondered if Toklata would ever leave his caring arms to take off on her own. Then again, would she even last long enough to do so with Itaru looking so strongly for his vengeance?

_No_, he hissed to himself. _I can't let anyone die this time._

Realizing awkwardly that she was patiently waiting, he quickly agreed with her once he snapped back to reality. "I'm sure she'd love something to do. Despite the congenial face she puts on, I'm sure she doesn't appreciate all the fawning and wolf whistling she gets. She'll like someone to talk to that doesn't have any ulterior motives. And besides that, I really, really need to have a word with her."

Katie smiled. "Maybe I'll catch her during the Festival. I'll put in a word for you if I do get to see her. Now, though…well, we're getting some looks. We should probably get back to work."

Ronin nodded and turned immediately back to chopping up his vegetables, but knew, with a rising sense of dread starting in the pit of his stomach, that Katie's pretty eyes were lingering for far too long on his back for her to simply be nostalgically remembering old times. In all honesty, he would adore going back to his old life of daily (nightly) womanizing, and generally being adored, but there was simply no way to keep a careful watch over her while doing all this. At least, no way that didn't end in awkward questions that he wasn't planning to answer until she was, say, a century old, and/or a nosebleed.

And especially now, with Itaru running rampant, he did not need to be making any new friends. Even if Katie really only was an old fling, he still didn't want to see her—or anyone else, for that matter—hurt on his behalf. In fact, the most ideal situation would be to leave the cramped mountain, but with his little prison term, he doubted the Princes would allow it unless he explained the whole situation to them.

This was bad firstly because he would rather hop about in the sunlight than admit to them that he needed help, but mostly because then Itaru would be branded a traitor and a coward and would be sentenced to death.

Ronin didn't think he could stand that. Itaru really was a good, ambitious kid—granted, one that was trying to kill him, but Ronin figured that he probably did deserve it all. If he could defeat Itaru and set him straight without killing him, all without relaying to any other vampires what he had done to Jaden, he was sure they could be best friends again…

No. That was stupid to think. Ronin had never been an idealist; he was easily depressed, sarcastic, and usually saw the worst in people. Itaru had always been the idealist of them, and Ronin was fairly sure that all the optimism the boy had once possessed must have slowly dripped out of him, along with a fair amount of blood, on that night he'd hung upside down from the rafters of the Shinsengumi's back shed.

His elbow brushed against his katana's hilt and he let out an involuntary shiver; suddenly, he never wanted to lay hands on it again. Toklata had rejoined him and glanced questioningly upwards after he let out his brief shudder, but he managed what he hoped to be a reassuring smile as he cooed, "It's nothing, don't worry. You're a sticky mess."

"Mmm," she confirmed, licking her fingers for the third time since finishing her drool-inducing rock candy in a feeble attempt to get the sticky feeling off of her hands. "Do you think she'll give me more if I trip her again?"

Ronin didn't give himself a chance to wonder exactly why Katie still had a taste for sweet things after all this time as a vampire, as his mind directly went to the thought, _I bet she would, since being kind to you would undoubtedly give her another reason to talk to me, _though he didn't voice it. Earnestly, she was, despite her scars, cute, and friendlier to him than most female vampires (who were all apparently way too smart to fall for that womanizing, lone-wolf jerk Ronin Takoda), but now was an especially good time for everyone to simply leave him alone.

Toklata seemed upset that he hadn't answered and started to sulk away before he remembered himself and informed her lightly that she did not _need_ candy.

The rest of his shift was gruesomely uneventful, so much so that he had once almost hoped that Itaru might pop out of one of the vats of bat broth and declare war. Meanwhile, the sword that had become second nature—no, _comfortable_—for him to wear had seemed to be eternally wicked now, as the boredom of chopping up vegetables had allowed his mind to wander over its various sins. It seemed to grow heavier and eviler as he felt himself falling father and farther into a depression, and by time it was time for him to go, he felt as if he would turn demonic if he kept it on him.

Katie bid him a quiet good night when he grasped Toklata's small hand and practically drug her out of the kitchens, but it didn't register in his mind at all then, though he later found himself hoping that Toklata had at least replied to the poor woman. Either way, he hadn't been heading to bed yet, which baffled his assistant, who had been panting by time they past the sleeping quarters.

"Master, where are…Can we…slow down?"

He picked her up instead, but didn't say anything, far too intent.

They reached the a huge hall within twenty minutes at their quick pace, where Ronin came to a sudden halt and released Toklata. She looked around, amazed. There was a huge, thundering waterfall, crashing at the ground and continuing on, with a seemingly deadly current, into the dark heart of the mountain, but sloping downwards slightly. There were a few jagged rocks set precariously here and there, ready to shatter anything solid that might dare trespass in the raging waters, should it—assuming it was something alive—fail to drown before reaching them. It was so much bigger and stronger than she and Ronin's usual practicing cavern that she felt a bit overwhelmed and scared, and stayed behind as her master wandered slowly towards the swift water as if in a peaceful trance.

The endless pounding of the clear water created sort of soft humming in her ears as she grew slowly used to the continuous noise, and she was finally able to call out to him and where they were.

"The Hall of Final Voyage," he replied quietly, gazing out at the scene. "They used to send the dead down the stream as a final resting place, but…_problems _eventually arose, and they stopped. Still, I think it's appropriate for this…"

"Why are we here?" she questioned faintly, leaving Ronin unsure as to whether she was talking to him or simply muttering, though he answered anyway.

"I need to get rid of something."

She looked up at him nervously and stepped farther away from the raging rapids, worriedly noticing that she was really the only other thing there with him. But without taking any notice of her, he silently relinquished his katana from his belt and drew back his arm, wanting nothing more than to be rid of the cursed thing, to get it as far away as possible.

"What are you doing?!" Toklata cried several seconds before he sacrificed the ancient thing to the hungry, gurgling water, causing him to regain what seemed to her his sanity and what seemed to him an awful bout of indecision, and quickly grasp the sword to his chest with both hands as if suddenly afraid it would slip, tripping slightly.

"Getting rid of this awful weight," he sighed, turning to face her once he was sure he was not about to fall in.

"But that was your master's!" she said incredulously, suddenly flushed with confused anger. "Why the hell would you want to get rid of it when you've clung to the damn thing all this time?!"

He didn't bother reprimanding her for cursing, but instead kneeled down to her height and gingerly pushed a piece of brown hair behind her ear. "Tokie," he sighed softly. "Sakura would never lie to you, but you only ever hear the good. I took this sword, and her name, in remembrance of Jaden, because I couldn't feel a thing but grief and a gaping sense of loss when she died. This sword was a part of her soul—because a samurai's sword _is _his soul—so I've always felt like I've been honoring her memory, or keeping a sweet memento, or something equally romantic. But…all this time, I didn't bother to think about all of the bad, and Itaru's appearance…was just sort of a grim reminder of it all: Where it came from; what she did with it."

"But you can't want to get rid of it! You say mean things about her sometimes, but she was still—"

"She tortured Itaru with this sword, Toklata."

"W-what?" she questioned, her blood returning to its rightful place in her body, leaving her face sickly pale, her expression grimly surprised, slightly disbelieving.

"And she killed plenty of his comrades with it as well," Ronin continued, looking down at the accursed thing now. "Besides that, it was a gift—no, a _bribe_—from a man she _hated_, and who hated her, asking her to keep on killing for him, to become a _tool_. 'Please become a demon,' he said to her, and so just like that, she became his slave. What's worse is that she was able to convince herself it was okay by hiding behind pretty words like _patriotism_ and _duty_."

Toklata had fallen to her knees, obviously distraught, and her big turquoise eyes were quickly becoming watery, for reasons unknown to Ronin; he felt like he was the one with more reason to cry at these recollections. "Can't you…can't you just forgive her?" she asked finally, grabbing onto his arm tightly and looking up to him pleadingly.

He closed his eyes and stood up, slowly meandering back to the water's edge. "You don't understand. Naturally, I miss her, but to revere her as a hero would be wrong, and always will be. I can't stand to keep this katana anymore, Toklata. It's wrong."

With that, he chucked it, sacrificing it to the eager water.

Because water washes away everything.

--

A/N—Sorry. Sorrysorrysorysorrysorrysorrysorry. I hope that's enough. Things seem to be a little dead around this fandom anyway, so I honestly wasn't in any hurry until I opened it up a few days ago and had this weird burst of ideas. Anyway, I figured I should get it up before field hockey starts.

Hmmm, what to say about this chapter? Well, Toklata's love of sweets was a tool to link her even more to Okita Souji, so there's really not any real reason as to why Katie's carrying around candy. Oh, and don't get too attached to Katie. More insight into Itaru and Ronin's relationship. Jaden's a bad person—well, most of you are probably going to think that, at least, but then, you could always settle with "All's fair in war," and forgive her? No, probably not… I really hate making the Shinsengumi the bad guys.

Oh, and "Water washes away everything" is an Asia metaphor for forgiveness, new life, ect. I'll try very hard to get the next chapter out soon.


	20. Chapter 19: Festival

The next few days were painfully slow and quiet, all starting with light training and ending with vegetable chopping with Katie. Ronin had nicked a lengthy European sword from one of the gaming Halls to train with, and as a safety measure, but even Toklata, on the receiving end of some nasty stress-induced blows, noticed how awkward it seemed to be to him.

And he wasn't only strangely clumsy with something so bulky, but was also obviously confused over tossing away Jaden's katana; knowing that it was good for him, and yet longing for its return—until he had a chance to talk with Sakura, he knew wouldn't have a chance of getting his hands on a quality katana. Not only that, but he felt lonely, _soulless_ without it, as if he'd been suddenly abandoned by a dear friend. It was a simple feeling to ignore if he kept himself busy, but he had plenty of time to brood to himself, and was left generally miserable, at times openly admitting to himself that it had been rash and uncaring to toss away the thing he had clung onto so religiously for so long. The last thing he wanted to remember was the second half of Jaden's Shinsengumi days, but getting rid of the very thing that to tied him to those memories only seemed to increase his obsessive agony over it all.

The only chance of salvation that he could see was the fast-approaching Festival of the Undead, in which his mind would be preoccupied with keeping Toklata from being squished and hopes that Katie would indeed mention something to Sakura about his urgent need to talk with her. And with some luck, he'd have a minute or two to relieve some stress fighting. Somehow the idea of throwing himself into the ranks of average vampires and letting loose soothed his worries—he could be normal for three days at least. Normal, hotheaded, stubborn, and stupid. Childless and nemesis-free.

Three days. The three nights of the Festival marked the last three days of safety—the morning after was the start of a fresh week. Then he would have to focus all of his energy into watching out for Itaru and any sneak attacks he had planned, but at least he knew that he was safe until then. Unless someone did something _stupid_. But the chances of that option were considerably slimmed down when he considered that Toklata would be in his sight at all times.

Sakura, meanwhile, seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. Trying to get her to stop and talk to him wasn't a problem at all if he couldn't find her in the first place, he thought, and brushed that off his list of worries as well. Katie also seemed to have grasped his sense of urgency, and was now_ promising_ to track the infuriating woman down. A warning would surely get to her before the end of the Festival.

The final night beforehand, the kitchens were hectic; people were crashing into each other frequently and suddenly seemed to think that Toklata was a bit of extra help for them, as they wasted no time putting her to work. This went disastrously, but she was able to scamper away from the messes she made unharmed, hiding quickly behind Ronin. Katie made a few attempts to help, but generally only worsened things and eventually nervously wandered off to somewhere else in the vast kitchens, face bright pink.

"So what's this Festival for anyway?" Toklata asked suddenly as they neared the end of their shift, hiding quietly and motionlessly under his cloak from fear of being asked to whip up a batch of bat broth from scratch again. "If it's not fun, and all this mess is for nothing…" she shook her head threateningly.

"Don't worry," he cooed. "It's a chance for everyone to let loose and forget about any business. We'll have to dress you up, too. Everyone becomes an equal. You should see Ishin—that usual stony-faced composure of his just slips right off—"

"So what do we do?"

"Not worry about Itaru, for one thing," he said sternly, catching her worried features with just a quick glance down.

"If he forgave you, would you forgive your master?"

"Tokie," he sighed irritably. She had seemed just as upset at his tossing away of his katana as himself, and her constantly bringing it up was sending him into an even deeper state of annoying self-doubt. His uncertain pause made her glance up hopefully, and he quickly chided her for being nostalgic for him. "That katana is long gone anyway. Probably stuck on a rock somewhere or sitting somewhere outside of the mountain where the stream slows down. It wouldn't matter either way."

"But it's the principal of the whole thing that matters," she insisted with surprising intelligence, frowning.

"Forgiveness if for weak-minded cowards with no pride," he informed her roughly. That marked the end of the matter for the time being, though she didn't seem very happy about it, and spoke of nothing else, leaving Ronin to brood once again.

Half an hour later, they walked back to their room in silence. He tried asking her about what she wanted to do during the Festival, but she only looked down at the floor and remained painfully silent, as if she was deep in thought and hadn't heard him. She seemed to be upset with him for thinking such cruel things, and hopped into her hammock when they finally reached their quarters without bidding him good night (morning), turning to face the rocky wall indignantly. Through sheer will not to talk to him, she fell asleep quickly, cruelly leaving him to watch her slow breathing and think about what he'd said like a child forced to sit in a corner for acting out. He closed his eyes and painfully wondered if what he'd said really had been an out of line embellishment. Certainly, he was happy that Toklata hadn't taken it to heart. Now that he thought about it, it really had been a nasty thing to say to the poor girl. Life was too short, even for a vampire, to hold a grudge.

At some point, he was near sleep; dozing half-consciously, but was awoken when something in the corner above him cooed, "She looks like Souji."

"Don't say that," he answered coldly, not bothering to open his eyes. "I thought I was done seeing you the last time."

"Perhaps this time you _are_ hallucinating," Jaden's voice answered, though it was strangely humorless, _dreary_ even. "Your own thoughts and worries projected into something else, to convince you you're not really thinking them."

"Quiet."

"I was under the impression that I had already been forgiven," she sighed miserably.

"Rot in hell."

"Please. I never meant to…" She trailed off and took a few shaky breaths. Suddenly something icy was embracing him tightly; he rested a hand on top of the smaller one lying on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," was whispered sadly into his ear, and then the arms around him slipped away. He opened his eyes and irritably jerked his head to the corner of the room above him to angrily shoo her off.

And found that no one was there. He slept horribly.

--

Sunset came too early; it seemed to Ronin like he'd gotten more of a catnap than a good day's rest. Toklata was still a bit upset with him, it seemed, but was really too excited about the Festival to continue ignoring him completely.

He woke up early enough to give them both time to get dressed. Toklata opted not to wear her kimono, which actually required some help putting on from Sakura, and instead pulled a bright yellow sundress with a purple ribbon tied in a cute bow around its middle from her hammock.

"Where did that come from?" he asked cordially, trying to make her speak to him without the hint of attitude she'd had when she'd told him good morning.

"Brought it with me from my home," she answered quietly and shortly, stripping and pulling it over her head quickly. "Even though you told me not to. It was the only nice thing I had."

He didn't recall telling her specifically that she couldn't bring that dress, but admitted to himself that he might have told her only to bring clothes that she could train in. Her sneaking it for so long was clever; she'd probably been waiting to wear it when he wasn't around to see, but the night before, decided she didn't care what he thought and unhid it.

"It's cute," he consented, smiling. He held out his arms slightly to show her his own attire, but she refused to comment on his navy yukata, slim white-and navy striped obi, swordsman's gloves and clean straw sandals. Disappointed, he frowned. He'd expected her to be ecstatic over the fact that he was wearing something other than black.

"Well, we should go, then."

"Yes," she replied curtly, following closely behind him as he led them to the massive Hall of Stahrvos Glen, where a few hundred vampires already stood waiting for the start of the Festival, and even more filtered in behind them, pushing them to the middle of the Hall. Grudgingly, she allowed Ronin pick her up and plop her on his shoulders so that she could look around.

Despite compromising and not wearing his usual black, she found that Ronin was still a bit out of place with his dark blue. The rest of the Hall was absolutely exploding with bright colors, mostly reds on the men's part and magentas and light blues on the few females throughout them. She looked around for Sakura's usual red and gold in the mess, but was unable to spot her, though she did see Katie in a spring green 19th century-looking dress with lots of frills, laughing with a group of a few other women from the kitchens.

A couple hundred more vampires quickly filtered in the back, and eventually a loud gong sounded, cutting off all chatter immediately. The three Princes ascended a tall platform at the front of the Hall so that everyone could easily see them.

"The Festival of the Undead is the only time when all of the Princes leave their Hall," Ronin told Toklata hopefully, wanting a response.

"Mm," she replied, keeping her eyes on them.

"It is good to see you, my friends," Paris said happily, smiling down at them.

"We welcome you all to Vampire Mountain," Mika told them, apparently in a much better mood then when she had first met him.

"And wish you well during your stay," Arrow finished.

"I know all of you have heard the rumors of the vampaneze," Paris continued. Toklata nodded to herself; even through all the trouble with Itaru, she had heard worrying tidbits of the news of the Vampaneze Lord, but couldn't bear to make herself worry about that as well, and had pushed it out of her mind for a while. Paris kept speaking. "These are troubling times and there is much to discuss and plan. But not during these next three nights. Because this is the Festival of the Undead, where every vampire is equal, and all must enjoy themselves."

Toklata, momentarily forgetting her anger with him, was about to ask her mentor if he thought Itaru would be enjoying himself, but had no time, as Mika soon continued.

"I'm sure everyone's eager to get the festivities rolling," he said. "But first, the roll call of those who've passed on to Paradise since last we met for Council."

Arrow recited the names of a handful of vampires who had died, while everyone else in the Hall carefully pressed the tip of their right middle finger to their forehead, the fingers on either side of it to their eyelids, and their thumb and pinkie finger splayed out to either side, muttering quietly, "Even in death, may he be triumphant." Toklata looked around in a panic the first two times they did it, but decided to simply copy them the third time and ask Ronin about it later.

When they were finished with this, Paris clapped his hands together. "That is the last piece of official business out of the way. There shall be no more until the close of the Festival. Luck to you, my friends."

"Luck!" the cavernful of vampires echoed, tossing away cloaks and roughly half-embracing each other, repeating that single word over and over at the top of their voices, the word that Ronin needed so badly. He took Toklata down from his shoulders, smiling softly at her, and held her hand tightly as a wave of vampires forced them out of that Hall and towards the direction of the gaming Halls. Some couldn't even wait that long, and started throwing punches in the middle of the hallways.

The three gaming Halls were in such pandemonium that it was almost frightening—no one whatsoever was on duty, and things did not happen in an orderly fashion in the slightest, naturally. Even Ronin was happily lashing out with his free fist whenever he could, and his other hand was slowly slipping from her own. His left eye seemed to be bruised.

Deciding to use her rebellious streak up while she still could, she allowed her sweaty hand to casually slip from his and wandered away, ducking between the legs of brawling vampires, tripping some of them, by either accident or purpose, she wasn't sure, but it was funny. Sneakily, she made her way to a different Hall, snaking between everyone furtively.

She found Ishin in the next Hall over, boxing wildly, smiling his small, honest smile as he beat down a burly man, who took the defeat in stride and happily marched away nursing his jaw. She quickly poked herself into the spot across from him, fists raised eagerly.

"Oh-ho," he half-laughed. "You can't be serious."

"I am. Just don't kill me, okay?"

"Of course. Your master would have my head." And with that, he lashed out.

--

Ronin, meanwhile had noted her disappearance, and was half-searching for her, half-fighting everyone he ran into. He wanted to keep her safe, but still felt faith that she would not engage in anything that was too dangerous to handle, and decided to just slowly work his way around the Hall to try and get a glimpse of her. He'd still be able to continue fighting that way—he felt quite better already, being able to shamelessly throw himself into the mess and relieve some stress. In fact, he felt reckless, free even. He wanted suddenly to take a break from throwing punches to drink, and then he wanted very badly to find Katie and be irresponsible with her, and then drink again, and then fight again. It was like a disease, but he couldn't help but enjoy himself.

As he slowly fought his way to the opening of the Hall, he encountered one of his wishes. Katie was actually running _to_ him, smiling brightly, wearing a gorgeous green dress that was ripped beautifully, showing off everything that her jeans and apron didn't.

She reached him and happily relayed that she'd spoken to Sakura, who had, though grudgingly, agreed to talk to him should she happen to see him. Conveniently, Katie also told him that he could find her in the furthest gaming Hall down, twirling her spear around like a perfectly beautiful madwoman.

"Thanks for that," he said sweetly, smirking and taking a few steps forward, forcing Katie back. "I'll go see her…but later. You're amazing, you know?"

"Me?" she asked jokingly, letting out a nervous laugh when she realized that he was purposely attempting to back her against the wall of the cavern. "You should see Sakura, then. She'd really look like some sort of fallen angel, if she wasn't wearing that ratty old blue thing over her kimono."

"Oh, I'm used to that," he cooed. "But Sakura's like family to me, so… What's this ratty old blue thing, now?"

"You know," she said timidly, looking down at her feet embarrassedly as her back hit the wall and Ronin's arms trapped her. "That…that smelly, bloodstained thing that Jaden wore from time to time…that was supposed to be light blue, but was really sort of turquoise because of all the blood on it…with the white triangles on the sleeves…"

He frowned, eyes growing wide. "You don't mean her Shinsengumi uniform?" he questioned quietly, horrified.

"…Yes," she answered, looking back up at him. "Is something wrong?"

"I need to find her now," he said, shaking his head and releasing her. "_Now_."

He started to turn and dash, but caught himself just in time and, hating himself for it but unable to help himself, pressed his lips quickly to Katie's and ran a calloused hand down her cheek before wordlessly sprinting away, leaving her flushed and surprised.

Two Halls down, it was easy to spot flashes of the hated light blue and white; Sakura was moving relentlessly, angrily poking at random opponents with her spear from inside a ring, where several men were doing the same. Happy to have found her so easily, Ronin began to move towards the ring, opening his mouth to call out her name worriedly to alert her to his presence, but suddenly hushed at the sight of Itaru, standing on the opposite side of the small battlefield.

But the young man had no eyes for him; he was staring intently at Sakura, eyes wide, half-frightened, half-angry, his mouth agape.

--

A/N—Hooray! And only two weeks this time. I'm actually pretty happy with how long this chapter turned out, though I wish I could have thrown in a bit more detail. Meh. Anyway, I told myself that I'd finish this chapter today, and I guess I did it. Now I'm tired though. Off to bed. Zzz.


	21. Chapter 20: Fight

Itaru's grey eyes rested horrified on Sakura's attire, flowing around gracefully with the rest of her. His body had gone rigid at the sight of the hated blue and white, and he seemed to be stuck between bolting away from old instinct and attacking out of fury. He started to move forward slowly, his face twisting into the picture of intense hatred, and Ronin started to call out to Sakura in warning, but was cut short when Itaru suddenly stopped and turned to slink back into the crowd of writhing vampires, apparently thinking better of attacking.

Ronin heaved a sigh of relief and stood patiently waiting for Sakura. The match seemed to be finished, as everyone else had returned to the swirling mess of flying limbs, but she was sweetly taking her time getting out of the ring, examining the tip of her spear. Annoyed, Ronin went to her, and made the mistake of stepping into the ring himself. Sensing someone, she whirled on him, slid into a low stance, and told him to grab one of the abandoned spears that littered the floor. Naturally, he did as she informed, as she looked rather like she would fight him with or without a weapon, and picked up a spear, narrowly avoiding a jab.

"Stop that!" he barked as she poked at him again. "I need to tell you something important!"

"You can tell me," she sang, "right here."

"Sakura, I'm really serious!"

"I know! So get on with it!" she snapped, making a gash in his right arm.

"How can you still be so angry at me?!" he called back, getting even more irritated with her, and somehow managing to nick her blue and white kimono overcoat slightly. "And take that stupid thing off!"

"No! And you should apologize for—" She broke off and narrowed her eyes worriedly when Ronin's eyes grew wide and scared, focused on something behind her. Any color that he had had drained from his body.

"Look out!" he cried suddenly, and she turned quickly to see what in the world could have scared him so, and was knocked upside the face with something hard and fleetingly hot.

Itaru had not run away, he had gone to get a weapon, Ronin realized too late. Now he stood sneering down at Sakura, who had fallen from the blow, a firey torch stolen from the cavern wall in his hands. "Get up, you hound!" he snapped, seething, not even registering Ronin's presence. "Stand up and fight!"

Sakura's face showed sick, fearful recognition as she stared up at Itaru's disgusted countenance. "But you…you should be dead!" she protested, shaking her head back and forth slowly.

"How characteristic of that uniform," he snarled, "for you to want to see people dead."

She didn't protest, but stood up shakily and brushed herself off, abandoning her spear.

"Itaru!" Ronin called suddenly. "Please! You can't—"

Itaru looked up and glared at him as if he had only just noticed that he was there, quieting him immediately with the harsh intensity of those normally dead-looking grey eyes. "Don't you talk to me like I've broken my promise to give you seven days," he hissed. "Don't you _dare_. This isn't your punishment. Not yet. This doesn't have a thing to do with you, at least not directly, so don't you _dare_ interrupt."

Sakura, meanwhile, adopted a look of semi-understanding, gave a half-chuckle, then smiled wryly at Itaru as he turned to stare coldly at her.

"What's so funny?" he asked dryly, apparently very upset at her sudden lack of fear of him.

"Just that you're such a hypocrite," she half-laughed, sneering. "I think I can see the situation here, and your ignorance is completely frustrating, you _pyromaniac bastard_. Taking on a Shinsengumi in a fair fight is bravely unlike the likes of you, so I'll accept the challenge. Now, take of your glasses,_ boy_. You'll get hurt."

Itaru was incredulous, his expression stuck between snarling and laughing, which didn't help to disprove Sakura's pyromaniac claim at all. "You think I'd loose against the likes of you?!" he choked, grinning. "You talk so proudly, one would think that you really were a brave and loyal member of the Shinsengumi, you poor thing! But really, _where were you_ while Jaden was busy patrolling Kyoto? Batting your eyelashes? Kimono shopping? Busy on your back_, entertaining_ one of those _special _customers so that attention was diverted from your dear BFF when she needed attention to be diverted?"

She punched him hard, right on the side of his face, so that his glasses really did go flying and he fell backwards. She loomed over him dangerously, as if daring him to go on, and strangely, he did, in the same dryly and sarcastically humorous tone.

"You're worse than them," he said, reaching for his glasses behind him and carefully examining them for breaks. "You're worse than those murderers, because you wanted so badly to be one of those murderers, but in the end, couldn't do a thing. Even when you had a chance to help one of your friends, you thought about it too much, and you only made things worse."

"Shut your _mouth_!" she snapped, kicking him this time, again sending his glasses flying and his head smashing against the hard ground.

He grabbed his glasses, stood up shakily, and continued laughing. "I'll humor you, Miss Sakura. Now, lets pretend for a moment that you really are an ex-Shinsengumi, one who really actually took action and didn't let her friend's life fall apart, and one who happily killed a few of my comrades. Yes. Now, Miss Sakura, since you are this person, all pity for you is gone from me." He grinned. "You can die like a real Wolf of Mibu now, in the pleasant fantasy that you were, and are, a brave samurai."

Sakura was absolutely fuming now, and Ronin was caught in such awe that he couldn't move; couldn't do a thing to stop them from killing each other. Itaru was pleased, it seemed, at having made her so furious. Apparently he didn't realize that he was digging his own grave, and continued to smile genially. "My, my, you're so quick to deny your worthlessness, Miss Sakura," he chuckled. Did I hit too close to home, you hound—no, lapdog of the Shogunate?"

She'd had enough. In one graceful swirling motion, she had swept up her spear and thrust the tip of it into Itaru's soft flesh, only just below his ribs. He let out a short gasp, but only the very end of the spearhead had bit into him, and he remained generally unharmed. Retaliating, he clubbed the side of her face with the still-burning torch quickly and brutally.

Ronin finally broke free of his dreamlike trance and sprinted forward to catch Sakura as she sprawled backwards, one slim hand cradling her left cheek as she trembled from the pain of the blow. Itaru casually stood by and allotted them time for recovery, assuming that Ronin was only there to play medic, and deciding to let it slide.

Carefully prying her hand from her face to examine Sakura's fresh wound, Ronin soon understood why she was trembling. The mark was actually something of a scrape, but a huge once that ran from her jaw line to the top of her cheekbone, and was not only bleeding, but was red and blistered from the heat and slightly blackened with ash. Wincing, he turned with thoughts of a desperate attempt to call Itaru off, but she suddenly shoved him roughly backwards, face contorted in rage.

"My face!" she snarled, swinging at him with deadly force. He narrowly avoided it the staff part of the spear knocking him to the side, but its tip caught his arm and left quite a gash behind. "Look what you've done! You've ruined my face!" She swung again, hitting Itaru in the side this time and sending him sprawling, but snapping her spear in half in the process. Honestly, she didn't seem to care, and began stalking over to his fallen form, ignoring the other half of her weapon as she walked by, content, apparently, to do as she pleased with him with the splinters on the end of her half.

He had stood back up by time she stalked over to him, but didn't have the time to draw up his defenses, and she punched him hard across the jaw, mocking her earlier warning as she sent his glasses across the floor one last time, quite far away this time.

Not allowing him to fetch his spectacles this time, Sakura soon afterwards jabbed at his thin neck with the broken end of her spear, catching the right side of it and breaking flesh. She pulled away and he began coughing, blood flowing thickly around any splinters left in his neck with dangerous rapidity bruises from her earlier blows starting to show on his face. He leaned over, wincing as he continued to cough violently and attempt to stop the flow of blood by wrapping his hands around his neck, and Sakura stabbed him again, in his shins. He fell to the ground, but, annoyingly, continued to grin.

"Poor, pretty Sakura," he chuckled darkly and huskily between desperate chokes for air. "Always thinking you have the upper hand. Because you're a _samurai_, right? Because in the end, things always work out for _you_, right?" His smile finally fell, to be replaced with a look of contemptuous rage as he slowly and painfully stood up. "Now, murdering Wolf-of-Mibu-wannabe, _suffer_."

Sakura suddenly yelped—Jaden's uniform was quickly disappearing within a plume of eagerly licking flames, the anciently dry fabric going up like newspaper. Before her kimono could catch too, she flung what was left of the old rag onto the floor, and, seething now, left it to smolder quietly away in the dirt. But before she could react further, Itaru hit her again.

A few other vampires seemed to realize that this battle was beyond the rest of the playful scuffling going on, and stopped to watch the two warily, not quiet listening in to the pair's distraught conversation. Of course, they would never have anticipated Itaru's vengeful and disloyal intentions, but they seemed to realize that a trip to the medics might be inevitable; it wasn't strange for a few to get too serious during the Festival, after all.

Katie suddenly came up behind Ronin, eyes widening at the scene before them, the two glaring at one another, sending off hateful vibes. She drew a hand to her mouth from shock at their gory wounds.

"You took off so fast, I just knew something was…" she began quietly, but soon trailed off and looked back at the two, looking as if she were caught between crying and being sick.

"Yes, something _is_ wrong," Ronin finished for her, also refusing to draw his eyes away. "Very wrong. This shouldn't be…if she just wasn't so stupid…" They seemed to be at a temporary stalemate, nervously judging each other, and so he drew his intense gaze away and turned Katie's head to him. "Please. I know I've asked a lot, but please, could you go find Toklata? I'm sure she's still in one of the Sporting Halls. Please, could you?"

Slowly, Katie nodded, her head turning back to the fight as soon as he released her. But without further prodding, she slowly turned her body and began to run back to the Hall entrance, sneaking looks over her shoulder the whole way.

Ronin felt horrible for treating her like a (very pretty) piece of meat in his earlier rush and then asking something of her, but know he needed that favor. He felt as helpless as the rest of the onlookers, but knew that he had to stay. Sakura had made it quite clear to him that she'd wanted to take care of Itaru herself as revenge for his cruel words, but he wasn't sure now if she still had the upper hand.

They continued to fight.

--

Toklata yelped as Ishin narrowly missed her face with a punch that would have surely left a bruise. All she could manage to do was dodge him at the best of times, she found out too late, and was soon regretting her choice to challenge him. They had actually kept this up for a few rounds already, and she could feel herself starting to lose speed.

In all honesty, she had found comfort in the familiar face set against the sea of everyone else, but hadn't really thought that she'd be able to get away with just innocently standing next to him.

These thoughts distracted her enough that she couldn't quite pull away quickly enough when the General lashed out again, and so she fell unceremoniously to the floor, landing on her bottom. He had to have been holding back, she knew, but felt proud anyway for holding up this long.

The General offered a hand and suggested coolly that she accept her defeat and go find her master, but could tell by her immediate sour expression as he mentioned Ronin that she didn't want to consider that option "What's that look for? Usually you're attached at the hip," he joked dryly, stepping out of the ring and picking up his scythe with considerable ease. She was pleased to see him sweating, though wasn't sure if she had even caused it.

She was about to explain about Ronin's awful words from the day before and how he had tossed away Jaden's sword, but the two suddenly noticed Katie standing behind them, her eyes worried and her hands, shaking, drawn up to her chest as if to protect herself.

--

Itaru shoved Sakura onto the ground with sudden and frightening force that seemed to come from nowhere, the act awkward against his thin and battered body. "You called me a hypocrite earlier, didn't you?" he snapped. "What an irony now that I'm repeating it to you, though I do think you deserve it." He kicked her. "Talking about truth and justice." Again. "Protectors of Kyoto? You were even more hated than we were!" She started to get up, but he whirled around and firmly pressed his foot against her ribcage. "I just don't understand how you can be proud of dear Jaden."

She struggled against him, spitting out various cutting words, but somehow couldn't break free as he slowly applied pressure. Ronin suddenly felt sick and swayed slightly forward—he remembered this very same scene from before, from that awful, awful day so long ago, but with two others, and he wondered how he could have been so cruel.

"Stop it!" he called, remembering how Souji Okita had cried the same useless request to him, his young voice resonating in his mind as clearly as the rest of the details, including directly after, when the poor thing had broken in to a desperate fit of wracked and horrible coughing.

Itaru, for some reason of another, heeded to his wish and took his foot from Sakura's chest. He then stared down at her with a suddenly doleful expression, seeming to be weighing his choices. The vampires who had been watching him with careful eyes seemed to relax a bit at his lapse and continued on with their own fights.

As they turned away, Itaru looked down at the smoldering remains of old cotton, tilting his head slightly. His expression became glazed and reminiscent for a few brief moments, but the sounds around him quickly brought him back. Then he made his decision, picking up her spear and pointing the tip of her throat in horrible irony—his was still bleeding dangerously as well. Sakura stared up at him with a hateful and sickened expression contorting her features, and yet she didn't seem afraid.

Ronin came to and dashed for them, but knew somewhere that he would never make it. Even if had been able to originally, Itaru would surely see him coming and make quick work of the process; it was hopeless and it was his fault for not intervening sooner, for letting everything play out, for—

Itaru was suddenly thrown off balance and crumpled to the floor. Ronin wasn't sure what he expected, really, but was surprised to realize with faint astonishment and pride that it had been Katie who had slammed into him—she had fallen backwards as well from the resistance, and now sat opposite of Itaru on the ground. Ishin and Toklata ran up beside Ronin, panting and just as surprised.

"That's my mentor!" she yelped, suddenly regaining some composure and scurrying over to him, looking into his face with sorrowful disbelief. "How could you do that to—"

He grasped her ankle and slammed her into the floor. Her head bounced off of the hard ground and she lie still, but Ishin was quick to dash over and knock Itaru out as well, kicking his head from behind with a bit more force than necessary. Sakura remained conscious but couldn't seem to pull herself up from the ground, and lay there with a hand over her face, breathing slowly.

"I think we've won," she commented dryly, laughing humorlessly.

"Quiet," Ishin said gently. "We'll get you to the medics, just relax."

She stared at him quietly for a few moments before nodding and falling into a dreamless half-doze.

--

A/N- Oh, I know, I know. In short, I have amazing amounts of homework this year, plus field hockey, plus marching band. Plus, our team this year is…well, they stress me. And then, reviews have been dwindling down lately, so I'm not even sure that a lot of you are still interested. I know it's veering dangerously off the "Darren Shan Saga" road, so I thought maybe some people might loose interest. If you're still out there, please drop me a line so I know. Trust me, I need the encouragement.

Oh…and I'm kind of happy but kind of disappointed about this chapter, all at the same time. I don't want to go into it now, though, I'm sleepy. Goodnight.


	22. Chapter 21: Injury and Insult

Much to Ronin's discomfort, Ishin insisted on carrying Sakura to the medical wing of the mountain, leaving him to help Katie—who had woken up in short time, but was still a bit out-of-it—hobble alongside him. He'd also slung Itaru over his shoulder after a short mental war, in the end figuring that he owed the kid that much at least.

Ronin couldn't help but smile at that. To think that he still was thinking of Itaru as "the kid" was strangely amusing, but totally nonsensical. Even back then, he'd been around twenty. A young, intelligent diplomat with morals and dreams…all crushed. Surely, if he'd gone to Germany like he'd wanted to, it had only been in search of military tactics that would help him with his revenge. And had he ever gotten to sail across the sea just for pleasure, not stowed away in the cargo hold of a filthy ship heading for Shanghai? Did he care that Choshu had won in the end, or had he cut his ties there?

Ronin puzzled over why he was still so afraid of and disgusted with the Shinsengumi. Through something like karma, it seemed, they'd already gotten all the payback they deserved, as the group was painfully torn apart through death, disease, and desertion in the end. They could have blamed…nearly everyone in Kyoto at the time could have been blamed, but mostly it was _his _fault, not theirs.

Mostly, though, he knew Itaru was upset about Rai. That much, at least, he understood…and he probably did deserve to suffer for it. Before, he probably would have stepped forward and let Itaru finish him, but now he couldn't leave Toklata alone. Or Sakura. She had always been there, but he was only just starting to realize what they meant to each other. Toklata, it seemed, was the cause of this awareness and caring. Not much had mattered before she had so cheerily hopped into his life. Now he knew—no, now he remembered that some people did honestly care.

And with this newfound ambition for life, he decided that he couldn't let himself die for Itaru's sake as well. Even if he did get his revenge, it wouldn't erase anything that happened. He would still be miserable, but with his enemy taken care of, he would also be bored.

Really, it was an awful fate. He had to make Itaru wake up somehow—he _owed_ it to him to make him see truth so that he could live the rest of his life happily and without demons haunting his thoughts. Then, everything could go back to how it had been before…

No. Things could never be the same. It was just too idealistic and wishful to even let that thought float across his mind. Things could turn out to be okay, he supposed, but never the same.

Within all of the mess, Toklata had forgiven Ronin somewhere along the line, and was gripping onto his free hand with awed fright, staring up at the unconscious Itaru with round, curious eyes as she silently trailed behind everyone else.

Things had been shaky between she and Ronin since coming to the mountain. She argued with him more and seemed to be gaining a worrying sense of independence, and all the while he was left with a weakening feeling of worth and control over both his own life and sending her down the right path. Without the sarcastic comments about her training and the clinginess that had shown when they had been free, they'd both become too soft and confused. He missed his arrogance and cool demeanor of those days, so far back now, and her innocent questions. The drama was just too much. They needed so badly to leave, but he couldn't get away with his duties in the kitchens.

Toklata suddenly tugged on the sleeve of his robe, looking up expectantly. Her face clearly displayed what she wanted to know as she glanced back and forth between he and Itaru with a look of wide-eyed astonishment. He found himself unable to answer her, which she must have mistook for him not understanding, as she soon after voiced her query. "Master," she whispered in a voice of quiet wonder. "What did you _do_ to him?"

All Ronin could bear at that moment was a stern shake of the head to show her that now was not the time. In honesty, there would never be a right time to tell her that awful story; not because of any worries of immaturity or the like on her part, but because he couldn't imagine retelling it, and he couldn't bear to see her reaction. Cruel as it was to allow her to go on believing that Itaru was the bad guy, he could never re-account what had really gone on.

The six of them reached the medics shortly after, who were fumbling around with other patients, all sporting ugly gashes and bruises. They were smiling proudly about their injuries, however. Ronin spared a glance at Ishin and could tell by the sour look on his face that he was feeling a bit out of place as well, but his impressive figure called attention to them immediately. A stocky middle-aged medic quickly dropped his attempt to supervise the mess as soon as he saw them and rushed over to help.

"What happened here?" he demanded roughly as he swiftly took Katie from Ronin's arms and led her to a rock-chair, then came back to help Ishin carry Sakura to an unoccupied bed. "Well?"

"They just got a little too much into the spirit of things," Ronin answered before Ishin could say anything, giving the General a forced smile, warning him not to say anything further.

"Yes, they are a rather stubborn bunch," he sighed dolefully, catching Ronin's hint and trying hard to convince the medic as he finished setting Sakura up and moved on to finding a place for Itaru.

"Mmm," the medic replied, sounding a bit uncertain. "These three look a bit worse for the wear. Usually the injured can find their way here one their own, anyway. And they don't seem quite as morose."

Ishin pointed to Ronin suddenly. "Do you know who that is?"

The medic examined the both of them as if they were insane before glancing down at Ronin's legs, where Toklata was peering up at him, and answering, "Ronin Takoda."

"_Exactly_," Ishin said coolly. "Would _you _be happy if _you _were friends with Ronin Takoda?" He ignored the other man's pointed snarl. "Now, can we get some bandages or something? Hurry up."

The man grudgingly stepped back into the chaos of the rest of the cavern. Ronin left Toklata to Ishin and went to find Katie again to help her hobble down and join the rest of them.

The General turned to the child once sure her mentor was far out of hearing range. "He wouldn't tell you what this was about, so he surely won't even think about confiding in me. Just as well. I wouldn't expect him to no matter what the circumstances. But I am curious. No clue at all?"

She shook her head solemnly and muttered something about Jaden and a katana.

"Ah, yes, I did notice Ronin's usual katana—or lack thereof. Spare me the details—I can assume it had something to do with his and Saku—Miss Hiroshi's fight earlier this week."

She was quiet for a few moments, examining the wounds on the two sleeping patients before them. Sakura was covered in small, patchy burns and scrapes, and the sleeves of her kimono were slightly blackened. Though she seemed to be sleeping okay, her breathing was slightly ragged.

Then she turned her attention to Itaru. He was a rainbow of blacks and blues and purples and crimson red leaking from his neck and ribs. Before they had come down, Ronin had crudely bandaged the younger man's neck with a strip of fabric torn from his navy yukata, but it seemed to be bleeding through anyway, smearing deep red all over the collar of his dress shirt. His glasses had been lost somewhere along the line.

"Maybe," she suggested quietly, "before he heals and tries to hurt us, Mister Itaru can tell us what happened."

Ishin shook his head. "No. Even if he did agree to talk to us, the story would be from his point of view only. His hatred has probably distorted some of the real details. However…" His blue eyes moved slowly to the sleeping Sakura. "However, even if Outa here can't tell the truth, and if we can't get Takoda to talk, there _is_ someone else who was there. And I _know_ she'll have every side of the story."

"Even Jaden's?"

He stared down at Toklata, slightly surprised, and she looked back up at him just as quizzically, eyes sad and round. "I'm sure she does," he answered finally, patting her head solemnly. "No more worries, okay?"

She nodded but didn't seem to be very convinced. But before she had time to dwell on it, Sakura stirred and Ishin smiled warmly down at her.

--

It was a task to make a mad dash through the swarms of the injured and their caretakers, but Katie was easy enough to find. Unsurprisingly, she hadn't moved from her chair, and was staring down at the floor, head clasped in her hands.

"That was very brave of you," Ronin said as he neared her form.

She looked up and smiled weakly at him. "I am a vampire, after all," she laughed shakily, rubbing the large bump on her head from where she had smashed against the hard rock of the sports Hall. "I really don't understand the situation, but I could never be disloyal to any of you. I wasn't even thinking when I did it…Stupid, really."

"It wasn't stupid at all," he consoled. "It was more than I did, anyway. You saved Sakura."

A soft wave of pinkness crept over her cheeks and she couldn't help but smile slightly, though she modestly refused to comment and instead laughed softly. After that they were quiet for a few long, awkward moments before she quietly began to speak. "Really, Ronin, you seemed so scared," she said, frowning and looking into his eyes worriedly. This man…what did you—"

"Please don't ask," he bit out, a bit more roughly than he really meant to. He quickly lowered his tone and continued, "It's awful… I can't… I just can't…" He trailed off and put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes as if a sudden and horrible migraine had attacked him.

Katie put a small hand on his shoulder and tilted her head questioningly. "Ronin, you're a good man. How could it be that bad?"

"Please don't make me," he snapped suddenly. "You know damn well just how good of a man I am. I watched as Sakura nearly got killed, let Toklata run free, and nearly molested you all in the last two hours. So use your imagination. What could such a good man have possibly done to poor little Itaru Outa?"

She was quiet, so he opened his eyes and glared…only to blink and quickly take his hand away from his forehead to wrap it around her shoulders. She was looking timidly down again, wringing her ands and turning very violently red, all while breathing rather heavily.

"Please, please!" he cooed quickly, noticing grudgingly that he had been making himself rather hate-worthy lately. "Don't look so upset! I didn't mean to—uh… Oh, Katie."

"No, I shouldn't have pried," she answered quietly, continuing to look downwards into her lap.

"It's okay to hate me; Toklata does it," he teased, trying to coax a smile from her. "I do need to stop pissing off the few people who actually like me, yes?"

"Where is Sakura?"

He smiled. "Actually, that's what I came for. Come on, let's hobble down there to see everyone."

She stood up shakily and gave him a nervous little grin. "I feel so lightheaded," she commented.

"Yeah," he said, thinking about the past and future. "Me too."

--

Their medic had returned with bandages and a bucket of water with a cloth and was patiently wrapping Sakura's burns. He seemed suspicious but didn't ask any further questions, as they had all switched to pleasant conversation when they had noticed him coming back. Sakura had caught on quickly and was currently making polite but weary conversation with Ishin, trying very hard to keep herself distracted from the crude and apparently painful wrapping job being done on her hands.

"Did you have a chance to eat before all of this mess?" she asked him simply as she suppressed a wince.

"You three were so eager to fight there was hardly any time for that. But don't worry, I wasn't hungry."

"You never are, really. Anorexic."

They seemed so earnest that the man finished quickly and turned to tend to Itaru's wounds without any further unsure glances. Once his attention was fully gone from them, Ishin leaned in close to Sakura and asked, "Really, how do you feel?" He put a gentle hand to her forehead.

"What are you doing? It's not as if I have a—"

"Well, good to see that you two are so comfortable," Ronin snarled from somewhere behind them. They all turned to find him glaring skeptically at Ishin, who drew politely away from Sakura and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"My, so protective," he breathed calmly. "What am I doing that's so wrong? And what kind of a man do you think I am that you're so quick to bite my head off?"

Ronin somehow managed to keep the same cool demeanor of the General, though he made it obvious that he was trying very hard to do so, as he couldn't help his nose scrunching up as he said coolly, "I was just stating fact, so don't be so quick to defend yourself. Anyway, we're all friends here, right?" As if to disagree with himself, he moved quickly to Sakura's side and remained there loyally.

Ishin seemed amused; there was a ghost of a smile on his features, but before he could comment, Itaru stirred.

"This is quite the injury," the medic said, indicating the younger man's neck as he removed Ronin's makeshift bandaging job and wiped some of the dried blood away before re-wrapping it. "It's so ridiculous."

The rest of them proceeded to laugh out things like, "Sorry, sir," and, "Won't happen again!" until he went away, grumpily instructing them to take care of anything else they needed themselves. As soon as he had completely gone, Ronin turned slightly to face Itaru's bed. He continued to move slightly in his sleep; moving his shoulders as if he were going to turn onto his side, moving his hand onto his stomach as if he were heading to his neck, but never quite making it to either destinations. He simply seemed to be restless, and his contorted features only helped to prove it, though he remained completely silent.

Watching him, Ronin knew that he had to at least try to leave the Mountain. Itaru surely had many more cruel tricks up his sleeves, and even if it was cowardly, all he wanted to do was keep everyone he knew safe. Even, he supposed, Ishin.

They were all looking at him expectantly when he focused again, and he pretended not to notice, leaning back onto the wall and closing his eyes tiredly. He would resist it as long as he could; they all just had to trust him.

Toklata grasped his hand worriedly, but it was good to know that she was still there.

--

A/N—Hooray! This is probably the second to last chapter! Possibly third to last, but still, it's almost done! I did bad with updating again, but I've only got one more practice and one more game before I'm freed of hockey! Next chapter will include another quick meeting with the princes, hopefully.

This chapter is a bit slow-paced, it seems, but hey, everyone was hurt. Give me a break. Once I'm done with this story, it's onto Shichi, which is all angst and blood. (Okita Souji is coughing up a lot of it. How sad.) I can't wait to be able to post it—especially Sannan's death, since that just makes everything turn horribly, horribly wrong. Blah. Not only was that a spoiler, but you probably don't understand it either. In short, yes, you will eventually get to hear the story of what happened between Itaru and Ronin. Soon. Ta ta! Please leave a review if you're still out there!


	23. Chapter 22: Freedom and Woe

"What do you think about leaving?"

Toklata and Katie looked up suddenly from their work, frowning at Ronin.

"But Ronin, don't you have to stay and work?" the older woman asked worriedly as she stirred a large bowl of stew.

She had declared herself o-_kay_ the same day they had taken them all down to the medical wing, and though she still had bruises on her face, she really did seem to have made a valiant recovery. She had a few slightly anemic moments walking back up to her room that night, but after a good day's rest she was fine. Ronin and Toklata had missed the second night of the Festival to make sure that she was doing okay and to tend to Sakura, but it seemed that nothing eventful had happened anyway. And though they were stuck in the kitchens at the time, they would have the latter half of the night to enjoy the end of the Festival.

"You're going to run from Itaru?" Toklata added in as well.

He grimaced, though he knew it was true. He had even been reluctant to visit Sakura's sickbed the day earlier because he couldn't think of what he might say to Itaru should he be awake as well. But the two women and Ishin had hunted him down and insisted that he tend to her, so he had been forced to go and worried for the entire walk to the wing. It turned out, however, that Itaru had pulled himself from bed before then and was lurking in his own room for the rest he needed. It seemed that he intended to keep his promise of a week, especially now that he was injured.

"Yes, dear, I am running," he replied sourly. "I can't fight him, but I can't allow him to hurt anyone else. What do you want me to do? And yes, Katherine, I am supposed to be working here, but I was thinking that if I could present a convincing argument to the Princes, they'd let me continue my sentence at some other time. Even if I had to bargain and add a few years onto it, I'm sure they'll be glad to be rid of me. The only problem I can foresee is explaining to them why I have to leave—if I told them about Itaru, he's be executed—and I think I've got a decent argument there as well."

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?" Katie sighed. "I don't know why you're asking my permission when you seem so set on it. I can't stop you anyway."

Ronin laughed. "I mean to bring you with me, you know."

She nearly spilled the soup, and then looked at him incredulously. "Me? B-but Ronin, I can't _leave_. I have to work—"

"Don't be vain, dear. The kitchens will be fine without you. Honestly, when's the last time you've been out of this place?"

She honestly thought quite hard about it, but in the end shrugged timidly.

Ronin scowled. "Which means _never_, right? Come on! I can't leave you here with Itaru, but at the same time, I can't pick you up and force you to come with us. You're really only making things difficult now. Besides, do you want to spend you entire life here?"

She seemed to be nearly convinced. It was at thins point that Toklata realized that she would buy her more candy if she came with them, and hastily added that she wanted for her to come as well.

Katie seemed touched, and Toklata decided not to clarify why she wanted her to come along.

"Well," she began nervously, "I can't see you taking no for an answer. And I guess I _would_ like to get out of here for a change. Where exactly are we going?"

Ronin sighed with relief. "Anywhere you want. Because anywhere is better than here."

"Could we go see Leigh?" Toklata asked suddenly, excited.

Ronin frowned. "People might recognize you. It hasn't been_ that _long since you left."

"What if we hid in her house the whole time?"

"Oh, she'd _really_ appreciate that," he scowled. "Besides, you don't get to pick where we go. You have to come no matter what, so you get no say. Life sucks, huh?"

She pouted and crossed her arms, but knew somewhere that he was right and left Katie to make any further comments.

"And is Sakura coming?" she asked.

"I have to talk to her later, but I'm sure she will. Why wouldn't she?"

Katie seemed at first like she was going to answer, but then thought better of it and covered her mouth with her hand. Ronin seemed suspicious, but didn't think it wise to press her directly after convincing her to come with them and quietly went back to his work.

--

Later, they all walked down to visit Sakura. She had been quite anxious to leave the day earlier, but everyone had advised against it seeing how beaten up she was. Grudgingly, she had remained in bed, but had apparently escaped earlier that night, as she was not to be found.

Ishin was having the same problem. They ran into him as he was leaving and informed them of Sakura's absence. Ronin was quite upset to hear that he was looking for her in the first place.

"She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself," he told the General in a forced friendly tone.

"Ah, but if that's the case, why are you looking for her so frantically?" he questioned, smiling.

"I need to talk to her."

"As do I."

"What could you possibly—"

Toklata poked herself delicately between them. "We could look for her together," she suggested sweetly. Katie looked amused as both men stared down at the girl with "as if!" sort of expressions.

"No, I actually have some work to attend to," Ishin lied. Surely, he couldn't have any official work to do during the Festival, but Ronin didn't complain as he stalked away.

"What an ass," he commented sourly.

Katie sighed, exasperated. "You worry too much about Sakura. She's probably eating. Come on, let's check."

Sure enough, when they had wandered back up to the Hall of Klhedon Lurt, she was there, though she wasn't eating. Actually, she seemed a bit harassed; her hair was screwed up, and she was resting her head on her hand, propped up by her elbows as she apparently tried quite hard to ignore the man sitting next to her. Her awful burn was still there on her cheek, blistered and red, but she didn't seem to care that it was showing.

When Ronin noticed her companion, he swore suddenly and loudly and stomped over to the pair, calling roughly, "Hey! Kuro!"

The man sitting by Sakura was tall and burly, though he was obviously getting up there in age, as his hair was almost completely gray besides a few black strands here and there. It was tied up into a tight topknot, and he was grinning lopsidedly as Ronin approached him angrily.

"Why, it's little Ro!" the man laughed. His voice was harsh and mocking.

"Shut the hell up and get away from her, Kuro!" Ronin snarled, drawing up his fists.

The man put his hands up defensively, smirking. "I'm not doing anything. Right dear?"

Sakura sighed dolefully. "It's not worth it, Ro."

"What do you want now, Kuro?" he continued, ignoring her.

"Nothing," Kuro replied. "I can't just visit my dear friend? Actually, I am a bit interested in seeing the latest Takoda as well…"

Toklata realized with a start that the man was referring to her, and attempted to step forward so that he could see her, but Ronin pushed her gently away and continued glaring.

"So young," the man teased. "A bad habit of your wretch of a mentor's that you've apparently adopted. Tell me, is she really dead?"

His lips drew back in a silent snarl, but he somehow managed to remain quiet.

"Of course she is. That silly, impulsive girl should have been gone long before she had the idea to blood you. In fact, I shouldn't have taken care of her at all. What a mess."

Ronin waited for him to finish, then hit him hard and stalked away, grasping Sakura and Toklata and dragging them with him. Kuro laughed from behind them but made no attempt to follow as they left the Hall, stopping as soon as they were outside to catch their breath.

"Stupid," Sakura mumbled. "I was trying to get you a new katana."

"_Yeah_," Ronin sniffed incredulously. And do you have any idea what you would have had to do in return? He wouldn't do a thing for anyone without asking for a whole lot more in return."

She laughed quietly, and he sourly inquired what she found so funny, to which she replied, "It's strange how you tear Jaden apart one day and protect her memory the next."

Katie frowned, confused with Toklata. "Who was that?" she asked worriedly.

"Jaden's mentor," Ronin answered unhappily, his scowl growing darker. "A greedy and manipulative old man who hurts everyone he touches."

Used to Ronin's cruelty, the pair looked to Sakura to confirm his description. She shrugged. "It's true, really. He was awful to poor Jaden, but she put up with him for the longest time."

"Feh. And even after she finally got away from him, he still came back from time to time just to harass her." Ronin continued to sulk.

"You're very protective of her, really," Katie said earnestly, smiling slightly.

"No I'm n—"

"But then, you're lucky that she didn't treat you the same way Kuro treated her," Sakura added eyeing him coldly. "Even if she was a tough mentor, at least she cared at all. You _should_ be grateful."

He couldn't bear to reply now. His heart had plummeted into his stomach, leaving him with a sick feeling as regret came over him again. How stupid he had been to toss away her sword…

"We're leaving," he told Sakura, wanting to be free of the Mountain even more now. "Will you come?"

She didn't ask questions like Katie had, but simply nodded. "Sure. We're family, after all."

The other three all smiled at that; they couldn't help it. It was a beautiful thought, even considering the awful situation it put them in.

They all spent the rest of the Festival relaxing, searching the cavernous mountain for a less intense waterfall, and once they found one, watching Toklata frolic in the pool. Until, that is, Ronin pushed Sakura in, she pulled him in, and Katie jumped in before either could get to her, at which point they all joined in the fun. Knowing that they would be away from the Mountain and Itaru very soon seemed to lift all of their spirits, and they didn't trail off to their chambers until late morning, after a quick trip for food. The Festival died slowly around them, and they each slept deeply.

--

First thing the following night, Ronin dressed in his nice yukata and headed up to the Hall of Princes with Toklata in tow, wearing her yellow sundress again, but with Ronin's favorite strip of silver fabric tied around her middle for luck. She had also been a bit cold, and had thrown on pair of dark warm-up pants and socks underneath, ignoring how silly it looked.

It wasn't as rough as their first visit; there were no weapons to be argued over (as Toklata handed her sword over with no fuss) and the looks they received were slightly less critical than before as they stalked up to the front of the Hall. They had left Sakura behind so there were no clever comments about her to be made, and Ronin was considerably more polite and Toklata was considerably less confused.

The Princes were obviously tired, and seemed to be less than pleased to see them. Ronin smiled, stepping forward, but before he could talk, Mika interrupted him.

"Are you here to argue?" he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. "Because I really don't think—"

"Not exactly, sire," he interrupted happily. "Actually, I only wanted to ask for a slight change in my sentence."

"How slight?"

"A compromise, actually."

Mika fell grudgingly silent and waited impatiently for him to continue. Ronin sighed. "I want to leave the Mountain. Now."

All three Princes opened their mouths to object, but he raised his hands defensively and they stopped. "Please, let me state my case before you object." When they remained silent he continued. "With that awful kitchen work and so many other people around, Toklata here can hardly get a decent education. I don't have the time or patience to train her with so many morons hanging around to gawk." He watched their faces change skeptically as his personality began coming out and smirked. "Tokie, when was the last time we've had training?"

She jumped at having been put on the spot and quickly and nervously answered, "Um…I don't know." Luckily, this seemed to be an effective answer.

"You see?" Ronin went on. "My punishment was for having blooded a child, but wouldn't it be even worse of me to neglect her upbringing? In order to avoid another punishment, I really think I have to put this one off until a later date. I'm not trying to skip out at all…I know that working in the kitchens is an easy punishment compared to what I could have been facing, I just think this is really bad timing. I really want to raise this girl under the stars, where we really belong. Being cooped up here won't help to teach her anything."

The Princes looked at each other worriedly. Ronin could tell they saw his point, but that they were reluctant to let him waltz away so freely. They wanted to a Ronin Takoda harshly learning his lesson, not a Ronin Takoda happily waving a sword around under a starry night, yet at the same time hated to think of Toklata going awry because of lack of education.

"And," he continued, happy to see them considering it, "the compromise: if you let me free now, you can throw another year onto my sentence later. Once Toklata can take care of herself for the most part, I think it won't be as awful to work here. Plus, there won't be such a mass of people…"

"So you wouldn't be coming back for the next Council?" Paris asked. "How long exactly do you plan on…"

"Seven years," Ronin answered quickly. Toklata looked up at him questioningly. She didn't want to think that she would only have seven more years by his side before she could "take care of herself for the most part."

The Princes also seemed confused. "Why seven?" Arrow asked skeptically. "What are you trying to avoid? Or what are you trying to be here for?"

Ronin smiled sadly. "Nothing at all… Seven's just…just a lucky number, right?"

Mika frowned (or rather, frowned more). "But how do we know you'll come back?"

"Don't insult me," he snarled. "I don't like it here, and I don't like being ordered around, but I'm not stupid enough to disregard orders from the Princes. Lets face it; you hate me enough to actually hunt me down afterwards. Why wouldn't I come back?"

They spoke briefly amongst themselves, but Ronin already knew the answer. Worry for Toklata had made them consider it, but the extra year of labor had surely sealed it. He would be free of Itaru for seven years, it seemed.

Suddenly, Paris spoke up. "Ronin Takoda, your punishment shall be postponed for seven years," he sighed. "You'll be expected back in the spring of…well, seven years from now for two years of Mountain work. Please do remember to keep track of the time."

"Yes," he said, nodding and smiling. "Thank you, sires. I do appreciate it, really. Come on Toklata." He turned and stalked briefly for the back of the Hall.

"You're leaving now?" Arrow asked, surprised. "What's the rush?"

"Well, we're leaving as soon as we're packed," he told the tattooed Prince from over his shoulder.

Toklata bowed briefly to them. "Master just doesn't want to be smooshed together anymore," she told them before turning and running to catch up with her mentor's long strides. "Bye!"

"That was painless," he said happily as they started ambling back down to their quarters, after picking up Toklata's katana. "It's almost suspicious."

"Master, hasn't it been a week? Shouldn't we be watching for Itaru?"

"That's why we got up so early, my dear. As soon as we gather up our things, we can catch a meal, find Katie and Sakura, and then be on our way. We should be able to detour around any of his games."

"But he's planned this so well… How can we—"

Suddenly a large group of vampires making quite a bit of commotion rushed past them, into an adjacent tunnel. They looked at each other worriedly and followed the group to see what the fuss was about.

Ronin grimaced, taking a sharp breath at the sight that a small but growing group was gawking at and pressing a hand over Toklata's eyes sadly. "Speak of the devil," he sighed.

Toklata pushed his hand away, curious. There on the ground lay the medic who had helped Sakura, Katie, and Itaru, a sword stuck into his stomach, still bleeding all over. As soon as she took it in, she looked away, feeling sick.

Everyone was mumbling about suicide when Ronin grasped her hand and pulled her away, heading back down the trail to their room.

"It wasn't really suicide; it was Itaru," she said quietly after a long silence, sniffling.

"Of course," Ronin agreed. "I was too precise; I doubt that man would have known about seppuku, or even then would have thought to commit it. Plus he was too far from the medical wing for him to not have been set there on purpose… You were right about watching for Itaru. We should skip the meal and leave as soon as we can find Katie and Sakura."

"We didn't know him, but I feel bad," she said tearfully, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

"I know. Itaru's aiming for only people I've dealt with passingly now, but soon he'll move up to Ishin, then to Katie, then Sakura, and finally…" He couldn't make himself finish.

They turned the corner into their room. Toklata took a quick look around and then fell to her knees in tears, curling up and hitting the ground weakly with small, hurt fists.

Everything that had once been in their room was gone; burned to ash and dust. Smog was still thickly hanging in the air. Ronin gaped quietly at the disaster before regaining some feeling and diving inside, running his fingers through the soot as if searching for anything linking them to what was. The pieces of Toklata's flute had survived—though the case had not—and he scooped them up and laid them next to her in an attempt to calm her. She stopped her wailing but remained miserably on the ground, staring and blinking at what had once been their few and meager possessions.

"My kimono," she choked, rubbing at her eyes. "It was s-so pretty."

Ronin kneeled on the ground and hugged her tightly, comfortingly, thankful that she'd decided to wear so many layers, including Rai's old kimono obi.

Among the rest of the remnants was a singed notebook, once full of scribbled pictures, the hammock and blankets, and all of their spare clothes. They would have no need to pack now, because they would be leaving with nothing. It was not much less than what they had come with, but it was still painful to see.

Sakura's voice suddenly reached their ears. She was dashing down the tunnel to get to them, all of her belongings packed safely on her back, Katie and Ishin in tow. Katie was packed as well, and so, Ronin noticed with disgust, was Ishin.

She was calling to them about the poor medic, eyes wide and worried, but stopped abruptly at their sour and upset faces.

"What else has he done?" she asked, walking slowly forward and looking them over critically, lifting Toklata's chin to check for wounds. The girl numbly pointed to the inside of their cell. Sakura looked it over and gaped quietly, seeming to be unable to say anything.

Katie and Ishin caught up now and also peered inside. Katie made a small, strangled noise and the General sighed painfully. "What a mess," he said quickly. "We need to leave now, before anyone else gets pulled into this."

"Since when are you coming?" Ronin asked coldly, though not bothering to stand up or even look at the other man.

"Sakura asked me," Ishin informed him. "And now is no time to argue about it. You can surely use the extra hands."

"Don't you have work?"

"I've already made arrangements. So really, we should leave _now_."

His usual cool tone was slightly stressed and anxious. Ronin didn't think he was frightened, but that he knew the rest of the clan would be safe if Ronin and everyone related to him in some way or another disappeared, and wanted for that to happen.

He couldn't argue with the other man; he just didn't have the strength. He lifted Toklata up off the floor and untied the silver fabric from around her, placing it instead over her bare arms like a shawl in preparation for the cold outside. Then, he lifted her and the slightly blackened pieces of her flute into his arms motioned for them to lead the way to the nearest exit.

They stoically left the Mountain to face the cold, unsure but together, at least.

--

A/N—Hmmm. I wasn't keeping track of how long this one took to write, so…

Plus, I lied. There will be one final short chapter of this story. Almost an epilogue, but pretty important. I'm hoping to get that up by Thursday, since a part of it is actually going to be stolen from my next story's introduction, and I will try and keep it short. Oooh! And, a lot of Shichi is already written, so for a while you shall have regular weekly updates there. Hooray!

I think this chapter seemed a bit rushed, but I was really trying to finish it today. All in all, I think it's acceptable for now, but I'll probably come back and add more detail if I ever get the chance. Good thing my Halloween candy was keeping me up long enough to at least finish it tonight.

–Evil smile- If anyone cares, I was Okita Souji for Halloween, including $40 Shinsengumi uniform and fake blood and dark circles for that tuberculosis look. I can imagine the real Okita being quite jealous; when he knocked on people's doors, they usually ran away. Maybe if people had given Okita candy when the Shinsengumi broke down their doors, he wouldn't have killed them…


	24. Chapter 23: Epilogue

The following morning, the five of them had already taken up temporary residence in a cave not far from the Mountain. They had stopped to plan out their course of action and to attempt to put together a warmer outfit for both Ronin and Toklata, who were obviously uncomfortable in the cold night. The former had spent quite a while moaning over losing his cloak, though he hadn't worn it since they had arrived at the mountain, while the latter's teeth were chattering too much for her to moan about anything. Luckily, she was much smaller than her mentor, and therefore more easily clothed than he. Katie lent her a thin but long-sleeved shirt that seemed to help a lot, but Ronin seemed to be out of luck there. Even Ishin was considerably smaller than him.

They hadn't spoken much since leaving. It _was _a rather awkward situation, they all supposed, which justified them being quiet. It was obvious that Ronin could have used some comforting words, but nobody could think of the right things to say. They weren't even sure there was anything they could say. It was clear that Itaru hated him, but without knowing why, nobody could say for sure that he didn't deserve it. Sakura was the only other person who seemed to know what had happened, and her silence only made everyone else uneasy.

They all wanted to hear the story. Though they tried politely to hide their curiosity, it was painfully obvious to Ronin and Sakura.

After a lot of quietly sitting around a fire under blankets and discussing where they might be headed (with no definite results) Ronin stood up. "I'm going to go catch some dinner," he told them quietly.

Toklata suddenly reached out and grasped the edge of his yukata. "Master…" she began worriedly. "What…what really happened?"

He looked at the floor, ashamed. "If you three want so badly to hear that horrible, nightmarish story, then make Sakura tell you. I don't care, but you're not going to hear it from me." With that, he left the cave, drawing into himself as the snow hit him.

With permission, Toklata, Katie, and Ishin all turned to face Sakura nervously. They wanted to know so badly, and yet, they were afraid of what they might hear.

She closed her eyes and murmured, "Lost with knowledge, lost without. Such is the way of the law."

Ishin raised an eyebrow. "True. But in this case, I think we might be just a little bit better off _with_ knowledge."

"No," Sakura answered.

"No?" Katie repeated. "You're not going to tell us either, are you?"

"No," she said again. "You misunderstand. That was a translated haiku. Now… Ah! North of the water, the spring moon is south of the mountain… Cherry blossom, a single bloom is still a cherry."

Toklata frowned. "Those are pretty and all, but…"

Sakura had held up her hand to stop the girl. "Ah. You're right. They _are_ pretty. And so deep. And yet, you can never judge a book by its cover. Or rather…just because the book is kindhearted on the inside, that doesn't mean that it won't act harsh and cruel on the outside."

"What?" they all cooed in unison.

"Wouldn't you think the author of these haiku would be a kind and gentle man? A balanced man?"

"Yes!" Toklata snapped, annoyed.

"Hmm. I see. Well, if the author of these haiku—Hijikata Toshizou, Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi—was a kind and gentle man, then why did the Shinsengumi need two Vice-Commanders?"

"So you're saying he wasn't a kind man" Katie asked, exasperated.

"Exactly. You see, he was also the author of the exceedingly cruel Strictures of the Shinsengumi, which laid out the harsh laws that the group had to follow. Even desertion was…" She smiled cruelly. "Even desertion was punishable by seppuku—where a samurai disembowels himself in retribution for a crime or some shame. Enter our other Vice-Commander: kind, gentle, well-read Yamanami Keisuke. Ah, and with him, the Shinsengumi is happily balanced…"

"Great," Toklata commented sourly.

"Still," she continued, laughing cruelly and flashing a cruel, uncharacteristic smile again, "apparently he read everything except for the Strictures that Hijikata wrote. Now, what will happen when the Shinsengumi is no longer balanced?"

They were starting to see now where she was heading, and remained silent.

"Ah, disaster," she sighed. "So ugly and horrible. The story you want to hear…lacks balance, and has a surplus of disaster. Are you sure you want to hear?"

They were even more nervous now, but also more curious. Warily they all nodded, and Sakura continued quietly.

"Forbidden love always ends in tragedy. It is a fact.

"It could be argued that all love ends in tragedy—either in disagreement or death, but to argue that is also to argue that life in itself is a tragedy. Nothing is forever. Love, ties, loyalty, happiness, and beliefs all fade away into nothingness—much like the mist over the Kamo River in Kyoto as the sun gives way to complete darkness—until all life is meaningless.

"So then, perhaps, some things _are_ forever. It makes more sense for, perhaps, life to be a measurement of small moments of happiness, or all of the people one makes happy in return, or all the times one goes against someone they love for something that they believe in. Whether or not they're right in doing so doesn't matter. Because some things _are_ forever.

"They say that sword wounds made with strong emotion don't fade until the feelings do, and Ro is our test subject for that myth. Maybe forbidden love is that much sweeter.

"Looking back at that stupid war, we all tore ourselves open for our own happiness, but we ended up in our rightful places at the end. Through several chance meetings, the saving of a life, Jaden's admission into the Shinsengumi, the building of more friendships, the seppuku of a Vice-Commander, the fight between master and student, the arrest of Outa Itaru, the thievery of _mizuage_, my trying desperately to keep up relations with both aforementioned master and student, semi-peace, complete disaster, and the collapse of the Tokugawa Shogunate, we all landed in our rightful places in the end--perhaps, even, happy.

"I believe that some things are forever, and that life is not meaningless. We all bear scars, physical and emotional, from back then, just to prove that our actions weren't all in vain.

"This is the story of Shichi, meaning 'seven.' In this tale, there are seven deadly sins, seven Strictures of the Shinsengumi, seven Strictures of the Shinsengumi being broken, seven telltale haiku by Hijikata Toshizou, seven months of friendship with unfortunate Itaru, and seven people who could have been blamed for the poor boy's arrest."

At that moment, Ronin returned with a string of fish over his shoulder. And in his hand, gleaming wet but somehow beautiful at the same time, was Jaden's katana.

"Look what I found in the stream, caught on a rock," he laughed humorlessly. "It would seem that she really wants to be forgiven. So I think I'll keep it for now." With that, he sat down in a corner of the cave and proceeded to dry off the blade. When they all remained silent, he looked up tiredly. "Go on, Sakura," he sighed. "They want to know, don't they?"

She frowned unhappily and shook her head, but motioned for them all to find seats. Toklata snuggled up next to Ronin while Katie and Ishin leaned in with eager interest. Once sure that they were ready, she continued.

"I think it all started on the night of Ikeda-ya," she said quietly, looking out to the swirling snow. "Yes, it started in June 1864, in Kyoto, with a huge bloodbath."

-The End-

A/N—Not out by Thursday, of course. I had a Drama Club meeting and finally got my hands on the seventh Kaze Hikaru. (Yay!) But then, did you really expect it to be?

Anyway…The next story, which explains the situation with Itaru and Ronin, contains massive amounts of Japanese history. A lot of the characters are historical figures, too. I think that might turn some people away, but I really hope you'll all at least try to read it. I'm going to try and explain the time period as best as I can, so that should help, but there's really not too much in it that follows the Darren Shan storyline, besides some bloodsucking.

I understand if you're turned away, but I'm really proud of this story. If you like angst and blood and tragedy, then it'll be especially pleasing, I think.

What I mean is, I hope you'll be into it enough to want to know what happened to the characters, but if you really are unable to grasp the time period, then I totally understand. Please leave thoughts on this in reviews.

Speaking of that, woot! This story is finally done with! Please do leave it with some parting words, as reviews have been slim pickings lately… I understand that too… (-Guilty of putting off reviewing-) But since this is the end, please leave any final thoughts. Thanks for all your support through this one… It was kinda tough! I seemed to get stuck a lot…

Bye for now! I don't know how long I'll wait before putting up Shichi. It all depends on your comments.


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